


Strawberry Lemonade

by niklitera



Series: Ad Astra Per Aspera [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comfort No Hurt, Corban Gets What He Deserves, Domestic Fluff, Elias Is A Good Father, Family Fluff, Fix-It, Good Slytherins, Gratuitous Happiness For Harry Potter, Harry Gets the Grandparents He Deserves, Honest This Is Just Such A Happy Fic, Honestly Poor Sev Remus and Elias, M/M, Protective Slytherins, Quidditch Cup, Remus Is So Gay and It Shows In This Fic ngl, Returning Home, Sirius Angst but Not Too Bad, So Many Barbeques, Summer Vacation, Summer With Friends, This Is the Fic Where He Has the Best Summer of His Life, This fic: I'm Gonna Give the Gays Everything They Want, interhouse friendship, so much research
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:41:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 139,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27433720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niklitera/pseuds/niklitera
Summary: “It’s done!” Tonks smiled brightly, standing from her desk and moving to Harry, whose wide eyes were on the two adults. “Harry, you’ve been officially adopted!”Harry Potter has a very good summer of 1994. At least, until the Quidditch Finals.
Relationships: Remus Lupin/Original Male Character(s), Remus Lupin/Original Male Character(s)/Sirius Black, Severus Snape/Original Male Character(s), Sirius Black/Original Male Character(s), Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: Ad Astra Per Aspera [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983749
Comments: 146
Kudos: 281





	1. Summer Highway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT HAS BEGUUUUUN
> 
> Remember how I said I'd wait until Monday?  
> Songs in This Chapter:  
> \- Listen to the Music by The Doobie Brothers  
> \- Sirius by the Alan Parsons Project  
> \- Eye in the Sky by the Alan Parsons Project  
> \- Heroes by David Bowie

The sweltering heat of London was especially terrible in that particular June afternoon, and the leather under his hands only made him sweat further. Harry Potter felt his hair sticking to the back of his neck and he ran the back of his hand under his nose to get rid of the moisture, Hedwig cooing softly from her cage. Harry, sitting patiently in Tonks’ office in the Child Protective Services Wing, swung his legs a bit, watching the woman write with her hand buried into her colorful hair – today she wore a bright, neon, green color and Harry thought it looked like radioactive grass, a bit.

He waited impatiently, a bit nervously, touching the healing cuts in the back of his hand from the altercation a few weeks ago. They were scabs by now and he was scratching at an itchy one when the door opened, making Harry look up to see Professor Fernández grinning, giving him a quick wink and turning to Tonks.

“Well,” he spoke in that neutral American accent he had, giving her the papers in his hand. “It’s done.”

“It’s done!” Tonks smiled brightly, standing from her desk and moving to Harry, whose wide eyes were on the two adults. “Harry, you’ve been officially adopted!”

“Officially?” Harry stood and glanced between her and the professor, hands tightly pulled into anxious fists. “So… no one can do anything about it now?”

“Yep,” she crossed her arms and nodded firmly, her grin brightening the entire room.

The relief Harry felt was almost draining and he turned to Professor Fernández, who watched him with sympathy and understanding, walking forward and ruffling his hair. Harry thought about how the Dursley’s had never touched him kindly, and yet Fernández did this so gently. He liked it. He liked being touched, like Hermione and Ron and Mrs Weasley so often did, and the thought of having this where he was going made his shoulders sink.

“Tired, kiddo?” Fernández asked him, chuckling.

“Yeah,” Harry rubbed his neck. “It was a long train ride, too.”

“It’s alright,” he replied, gently taking the handle of Harry’s trunk and carrying it himself, startling Harry a little. He almost wanted to take it back and reassure him that he could do it but… he _was_ tired. And the trunk was very heavy. “We’ll take the floo to Brussels and there we can rest a bit.”

“Right. Brussels,” he murmured, green eyes a bit wide.

Elías had told him of the car trip, of the little summer adventure they’d begin with and while Harry _was_ excited about seeing new places, it scared him a little. But it scared him more that he’d go to Spain and not like it, so – maybe it was better to do it gradually but he didn’t know. It was strange, wanting to trust an adult to make a decision he wasn’t sure of. Usually Harry thought they were stupid decisions.

“Thank you for everything, Tonks,” Fernández said, hand moving to squeeze her shoulder when Tonks just outright hugged him, slapping his back a few times and laughing.

“A pleasure, I say!” she grinned, turning to Harry before pulling him into a hug as well, making him smile a bit. Her happiness was always so contagious. “Best of luck to you, Harry! Take care! We’ll see each other when we do the two month check! Have a good summer!”

“You, too, Tonks,” he replied and Professor Fernández nudged Harry, making him look at him.

“You ready, Harry?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, taking in a deep breath and nervously throwing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

* * *

The heat of the day disappeared the moment Harry stepped through the chimney and, immediately, a much milder climate greeted him, making him blink. He still wasn’t too used to the floo network so he felt almost disoriented as he focused his eyes behind his glasses, hearing music playing and seeing immediately a balcony open, breeze flowing in. Outside, a few cars honked and he saw tall, old, Belgian buildings and green, so much _green_ that he was unused to. Vibrant trees lined the street, what he could see of it and Harry turned his head to look around the rest of the space.

“ _Mhm, what the people need is a way to make ‘em smile. It ain’t so hard to do if you know how. Gotta get a message, get it on throoough. Oh, now momma don’t you ask me why._ ”

A couch and two armchairs in blue, a round dinner table prepared with intricate china, it seemed, and a few guitars and ukulele sitting on the corner of the living room. Picture frames, shelves full of books, and on the couch, with an acoustic guitar in hand, Harry saw a man in what must’ve been his mid-fifties, putting the instrument away as he looked at Harry.

“Hey! Hello, there!” he smiled, accent thick, and Harry realized that it was the same smile Professor Fernández had, clumsily moving further into the room to stop obstructing the chimney, Fernández walking in after him with Harry’s trunk and Hedwig’s cage.

“Hey, pa!” Fernández greeted, laughing. “Music’s too loud!”

“Sorry, sorry!” the man rushed to turn it down and Harry stuck close to his professor, shoulders curled, nervousness rolling in his stomach. Something smelled amazing, rich with flavor and spices and Harry realized just how hungry and tired he was.

Once the music was lower, Fernández put an arm around Harry’s shoulders, gently squeezing, and the boy let out a small breath, looking at him. Fernández gave him a reassuring smile, making Harry shift a bit closer again.

“Pa,” Fernández spoke, the man standing there with bright blue eyes. “This is Harry, Harry Potter. Harry, this is my father, Juan.”

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Harry spoke up, quiet and respectful.

“Very nice to meet you, Harry,” he replied, friendly, watching him with a laugh. “Now _that’s_ a British accent if I’ve ever heard one. Lourdes – my wife – and I both speak English, so don’t be afraid to talk to us. You’re part of the family now.”

“Thank you, sir,” Harry felt something unwind inside him, a bit better at the friendly disposition that Juan seemed to have.

“No sir, not that sir thing,” he waved it off. “I’m just Juan.”

Harry shifted, then mumbled, “I don’t know if I can pronounce it right, if I’m honest.”

Fernández gave a snort and Juan threw his head back and laughed, moving a hand to ruffle Harry’s hair and _that_ was what made Harry finally crack a small smile. Juan was just like Fernández – or, well, Professor Fernández was just like his dad.

“Don’t worry, you’ll learn to pronounce it one day,” Juan assured, grinning before turning to his son. “And you got a new tattoo, didn’t you?”

“ _Papa,_ ” the man sighed and Harry watched with surprise as Juan reached over and pulled on the collar of Fernández’s colorful shirt, clicking his tongue. “I’m an _adult_.”

“It’s healed up nicely,” he remarked, pulling away before snorting. “When your mother notices…”

“Don’t remind me,” he rolled his eyes, laughing before giving his father a hug.

Harry noticed that Juan was a bit shorter than Fernández and he openly, without any shame whatsoever, kissed his forehead and rubbed his back, making the professor sigh and relax. Harry wondered if all fathers were meant to make you feel like that – safe and sound, maybe?

“Where’s ma?” Elías asked, gently tucking the trunk next to the chimney.

“On her way, she was buying ice cream,” he patted his shoulder firmly and turned to Harry with a bright smile, the kid unable to stop himself from returning it. “So! Harry, are you hungry?”

“Very, s – very,” he nodded and Juan nodded.

“I made _arroz al horno_ ,” he told them and Fernández perked up.

“Yes!” he grinned. “Let’s – Harry, why don’t we put your things in the guest room? You can take a shower, rest up a bit?”

“I’d like that,” Harry confessed, dying for a shower and Juan seemed to finally notice Hedwig, jumping a bit.

“He has an owl?” his eyes widened.

“This is Hedwig!” Harry told him, taking her cage gently and Juan approached with a curious and delighted look. “She’s harmless, never bites or anything, look!”

Harry gladly stuck his fingers inside the cage, scritching between her eyes over her buttery soft feathers, the lovely white owl closing her eyes and enjoying his attention. Juan reached over as well and gently touched her feathers with the back of his knuckle, laughing with surprised happiness when Hedwig leaned into his touch.

“Oh, she’s _beautiful_ ,” he breathed.

“Ma is going to freak,” Fernández laughed into the back of his hand.

“Does she not like animals?” Harry asked, worried.

“She does,” he replied, snickering. “But she’s scared of most animals that aren’t dogs. She’s _cautious_. Lately she’s been fine with cats but if she sees an owl she’s going to freak out,” he laughed. “Don’t worry, though, Harry, she wouldn’t ever do anything to her. Just keep her distance.”

“Can she be released?” Juan asked, absolutely ignoring the fact that Fernández had just told Harry that his wife wouldn’t like Hedwig loose. “If she’s domesticated –”

“She is,” Harry nodded, opening the cage and pulling Hedwig out with her perched over his arm, making him smile as she groomed her feathers. “I actually had to teach her to be extra clean, because the Dursley’s hated her.”

“That’s good that she’s clean, though – less trouble for us,” Juan looked over her, looking truly happy and fascinated. It made Harry feel even more at ease, that he seemed tolerant and even eager to have Hedwig around. Harry had found that people who didn’t like animals very often weren’t people he was interested in being around.

“She’s so _white_ , she’s beautiful,” Juan laughed a bit. “Will she fly off?”

“Not if I tell her not to,” Harry replied and Juan nodded.

“Well, it’d draw some attention to see an owl here, so let’s keep her inside,” he told Harry gently, his hand moving to his shoulder and squeezing, the same way Fernández did. Harry was starting to realize just how much Professor Fernández treated him and the rest of the students of Hogwarts like that, like his own kids. “Go take that shower and get comfortable. Lourdes will be here at any moment and very probably we’ll serve dinner soon.”

“Alright,” Harry nodded, gently nudging Hedwig into her cage. She comically refused for a moment, clinging to his arm but in the end, with a little treat from Harry’s pocket, she finally got in, poofing with slight anger. “Sorry. At least for now.”

“Let’s go,” Fernández smiled at him and as Harry moved out of the living and dining room, the smell of food got stronger.

He heard the sound of a washing machine and looked fascinated at the entrance, it seemed, with so many little antique gadgets and picture frames and trinkets from all over the world. Fernández opened a door and he was met with a long hallway, such a different kind of apartment form the British home. The walls, again, were covered in photographs, framed in soft wood. Similar faces greeted Harry and he looked curiously at them, wondering if he’d be able to spot Professor Fernández in any of them, but he seemed unable to.

“Here,” Elías opened the door to a cozy bedroom, large window and bed perfectly made. He gently set Hedwig’s cage down on the nightstand and Fernández placed his trunk on the floor, nodding to himself, hands on his hips. “Do you want to shower or would you rather relax a bit?”

“I’ll take a shower and relax a bit,” Harry decided quietly, rubbing his nose.

“Let me show you how it works and you can do whatever you want, I’ll finally leave you be,” he chuckled and Harry felt a bit grateful.

Not that Fernández hadn’t been nice to him but all of this was frankly overwhelming and Harry hadn’t found his footing yet. Juan seemed nice but Harry knew better than anyone that people could seem nice and then snap into something else at any point. The tension within him was frankly draining and, once he took the shower and laid in the fluffy, comfortable, nice-smelling sheets of the bed in the guest room, he pulled out the letter from Sirius that he’d received on the train.

He read it. Over and over and over again, swallowing. He’d been happy, when he’d received it, but he was worried that he’d be caught. Harry had only had Sirius for… less than an hour. And he wished he’d had more time with him. He knew he could send Hedwig and she would find him but Harry didn’t want to bother Sirius much. Or maybe Sirius wanted to be bothered. Surely he would receive letters from Professor Lupin and Professor Fernández, the three of them had seemed good friends.

Harry sat up and watched the bedding, rubbing his chest with one hand before grabbing his glasses from where he’d left it on the nightstand, putting them back on.

He wondered if the Dursley’s regretted the way they’d treated him.

The sheets were clean. They – didn’t smell of obnoxious flowerly stuff, they just… smelled clean. Comforting. And Harry thought of the way Juan had treated Hedwig and not gotten mad that Harry couldn’t pronounce his name or that he couldn’t speak Spanish. And he thought of Professor Fernández telling him in the Ministry of Magic that Hermione and Ron would help him pick out his room and they’d make a nice trip of it. And he thought, just for a moment, that… that he could relax, maybe it was now.

Muggle music, music apartment, muggle appliances all around him and he normally would be over them and prefer wizarding everything but somehow, it felt like a reprieve after such a stressful year at Hogwarts. He wouldn’t feel like this if this had been the Dursley’s, surely. The food smelled really nice, too… and the music was kind of catchy.

Harry stood, giving Hedwig one last treat before cracking open the door, the music getting louder. He could hear singing, too, and it startled him, the enthusiasm of it. Slowly, he closed the door behind him and looked around the pictures, the furniture, the different books on the shelves and paintings hung. He saw Juan in some, but didn’t find Professor Fernández in many. Just a few – and not as a kid. Maybe he was adopted, too? But his eyes were just like Juan’s…

He heard the front door open and he froze for a moment, walking to the door to the entrance and peeking out to see a woman walking in – and she was _just_ like Professor Fernández, except without tattoos and with deep brown eyes. She hummed along to the music, singing along under her breath, putting aside the keys and Harry took a deep breath before walking out.

“Oh! You must be Harry!” she smiled brightly, speaking with a deep Spanish accent, just like Juan. She wore a green dress and pearls and Harry was reminded of Aunt Petunia, who loved her pearl necklace so much. But Lourdes didn’t seem… like her. She seemed friendly.

“H-hi,” he stuttered a bit, watching her wrangle the bags in her hands to the side so she could – give him a hug. Harry tensed for a moment before he realized that she smelled like the sheets of the bed, blinking hard and letting out a little breath of surprise. She was warm, and comforting, and when she pulled back Harry didn’t feel so afraid of her anymore.

“I’m Lourdes! But you can call me Fosi, if you want,” she told the boy, rummaging through the bags. She had wrinkles like Juan, looked to be in her fifties as well but her hair was blonde and she had a lot of crow’s feet. Hermione had told him that people had those because they laughed and Harry gave her a small smile.

“I’m Harry, ma’am, Harry Potter,” he replied and she pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes wide.

“Oh my Gosh! Your accent, I love it!” she gushed, making him flush. “Harry Potter, so British! Pardon my accent, I – I do try my best –”

“No, no! I understand you very well, don’t worry,” he assured and she smiled, seemingly finding what she’d been looking for and pulling out – a lolly. Harry blinked as she handed it to him and he took it slowly, glancing at her.

“My son really likes those, I usually bring one or two because I like them as well,” she winked and Harry gave a bright smile. He’d thought she’d been patronizing him but – but he’d been wrong, she wasn’t. “Juan! Elías! _¡_ _Estoy aquí!_ ”

“Ma?”

The door of the kitchen opened and Professor Fernández walked out, wearing an apron and his hair back in a ponytail, a wide grin taking over his face as he saw his mother. Harry watched him rush to her and give her a tight hug, kissing her cheek, her forehead, the top of her head and Lourdes kissed his cheek as well. Harry was starting to realize that this was a very affectionate family.

“You met Harry!” Fernández exclaimed, moving next to the boy.

“Yes!” she nodded, giving Fernández a lolly as well and Harry would’ve laughed if Fernández hadn’t immediately unwrapped it and put it in his mouth with a smile. No patronizing, just… enjoying candy. Harry had never seen his Aunt and Uncle eat candy. “He’s got such beautiful eyes!”

Harry flushed, “Uh… thank you,” he rubbed his arm, flattered. “They’re my mother’s.”

“Bet your mother was a very beautiful woman,” Lourdes stated, no pitiful looks or sad smiles, just a statement that Harry very much agreed with. He was starting to like her.

“Okay so – we’re almost done with lunch? I’m making quick work of dessert,” Fernández explained to Harry and the boy noticed the cocoa stain in his knuckles.

“I brought vanilla ice cream!” Lourdes pulled the tub out, then yelped. “Ahhh, it’s melting!”

“Ma!” Fernández took it and raised his wand, quickly freezing it again with a little laugh. “There, all good.”

“Well, at least magic is a bit useful,” she patted the professor’s cheek and walked into the kitchen. “ _¡Juan! Juan, oye, te he traido lo que me pediste, ¿Lo tienes todo?_ ”

“Are you alright?” Fernández asked Harry, holding onto the tub of ice cream. Vanilla was Hermione’s favorite and Harry wished his friends were here to face this dinner together. He wasn’t… scared, just nervous.

“I’m good,” Harry told Fernández instead. “Uh, clean?”

“You sure are,” he chuckled. He looked to be in an incredibly good mood. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah, the bed’s really nice. Everything smells really good,” Harry confessed.

“I mean emotionally,” Fernández replied and Harry paused as he elaborated, voice gentle. “If you feel uncomfortable or anxious or anything during dinner, just say you’re tired? You can dismiss yourself to your room, have a nap or just be by yourself, yeah? I get that this is all a lot, after… everything that’s happened this year and – I can’t even think of what you must be going through. And I understand if you need to be alone for a little while.”

Harry swallowed, eyes inexplicably burning for a moment and he quickly ran his fingers over them, behind his glasses, before he could cry and look like a baby.

“Thanks,” he murmured, taking a deep breath.

He had never heard an adult say something like that before—tell him that they couldn’t possibly understand what he was going through. They always said that it’d pass, that it’d be alright, that Harry would grow to be stronger and the like but nobody had ever told him that he could take time to himself and _be_ upset. It made him feel _heard_.

“They’re – they’re really nice,” Harry told him, gesturing at the kitchen as he sniffled a bit, sounding nasal. He hated it.

“Yeah, they are,” Fernández looked over his shoulder at the door and gave a tender little smile. “They’re good parents. And they’re very happy that you’re here and safe. Ma got you some gifts and I thought they’d be overwhelming but if you wanna take a look at them by yourself, they’re under the guest bed.”

“She… got me gifts?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah, just – family gifts,” Fernández laughed, shrugging, pulling out the half-eaten lolly to swallow a bit. “I’ve got a very big family, Harry, but we’ll got at your pace, alright? You call red and I hit the brakes. We gotta talk to each other about comfort and the like, because I can’t read your mind. Communication is key.”

“Communication is key,” Harry repeated, slowly nodded, clutching his own lolly before murmuring. “Is your family big like the Weasley’s?”

“Well, not like the Weasley’s,” Fernández explained slowly. “It’s – I don’t have many siblings, I only have one big sister, which you’ll probably meet this summer.”

Harry didn’t correct him about using which instead of who, simply nodding.

“I just have a thousand cousins,” Fernández chuckled. “You’ll see. Family meetings are insane. They’re all super friendly and super loud, so I get it if again, you wanna go slow.”

“I’ll let you know,” Harry said sincerely. Professor Fernández made him want to talk, somehow, when usually Harry wanted to get away from adults the fastest he could. Maybe it was Professor Lupin and Sirius, as well. They’d all been so nice. “Thank you, professor.”

“Oh, no, _no_ ,” he quickly said, laughing, hand patting Harry’s head. “Call me Elías. Not professor. We’re not at Hogwarts, yeah? Elías or Eli.”

“Elías,” Harry spoke, feeling for a moment a bit rude. “Are – are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” he nodded.

“Elías,” Harry repeated, and when Elías smiled, so did Harry. “It smells really good.”

“Oh, trust me,” Elías gave a grin with a little mischievous glint in his eyes. “You don’t know just how good it’s going to be.”

* * *

The strange apartment, the change of pace and attitude, the new guardian figures in his life, the impending trip to a foreign country – _none_ of that mattered as Harry leaned back on his chair and grinned, having finished a second serving of the meal with rice they’d made, _arroz_ something. It had tasted _amazing_ and felt comfortable and welcomed, Lourdes and Juan both asking him about his interests, his friends, his favorite subjects, his grades and his life. He’d talked about Hermione and Ron, about classes and Gryffindor House, and about Quidditch. The latter had made Lourdes clutch at her pearls and Elías laugh loudly.

“You don’t get hit by bowling balls, do you?!” she asked, eyes wide.

“Ma, all Quidditch is the same,” Elías said, chin resting on his hand, elbow on the table. His accent wasn’t as impeccable as in Hogwarts, tongue slipping around some syllables but Harry was still able to understand him well. “He’s a seeker, though.”

“What’s that?” she asked, still worried. “The one with the bats?!”

“No, no, that’s beater,” Elías kept snickering. “The one I was.”

“You played Quidditch?” Harry asked, surprised, and Elías nodded.

“I was in the Slytherin Quidditch team from uh… Year Three to Year Five? Yeah, more or less,” he explained.

“Oh, right, Slytherin,” Harry blinked, still so surprised that someone like him was in the pit of snakes. But then again, Theo, Pansy, Greg and Vince were there, as well. And Blaise wasn’t _that_ bad, just… mistrusting.

“You’re in the lion house thingy!” Lourdes said, looking proud of herself as Harry nodded, laughing.

“Gryffindor,” he said.

“Yes, yes, I remember,” Lourdes said, very satisfied with herself. “He has the snakes. There’s a crow in another one, I think? And a guinea pig!”

“Badger and Eagle,” Harry kept laughing and Juan looked amused at his wife while she gave a little sigh of disappointment. “But I like the idea of a crow and a guinea pig.”

“Do you want us to pretend they’re a crow and a guinea pig?” Juan asked Lourdes, his hand moving over hers and Lourdes gave him a pout, making Harry pause when Juan leaned in and kissed her cheek lovingly. They… seemed very in love. And they were old. Harry wasn’t used to seeing that but when he looked at Elías, he seemed utterly happy and relaxed, watching his parents.

It made sense now, if Harry thought about it – Elías hadn’t grown in a pureblood family. Even if he was a Slytherin, he had none of the bad things that came with being a Slytherin, like the whole blood purity and hate of muggles thing. His parents _were muggles_ , and he obviously cared about them very much. What made him Slytherin, then? Why had the Sorting Hat put him with the snakes? He… seemed proud of it. Wore a lot of snake jewelry things and had one tattooed in his arm, too.

“Did you like dinner, Harry?” Juan asked, the h harsh in his accent and Harry nodded, giving him a small sheepish smile. “I could tell when you asked for seconds.”

“It was really good,” Harry confessed, poking one of the shrimp shells in his plate. He usually didn’t like seafood, it tasted either too bland or too briney for him to eat but this one had been packed with such good flavor. He’d really liked it. “Seems complicated.”

“It’s actually _very_ easy,” Juan replied, voice slow and technical. “Rice dishes can be very complicated, but because rice is hard to master, yeah? Getting it just right is the only complicated thing here. The rest is a breeze! Finding the right ingredients, too, here, I suppose, but well – we make do in Brussels.”

He sounded passionate about food and Harry listened to him and nodded, turning to Elías, “Do you know how to do it?”

“He taught me,” Elías pointed at his father and finished his bottle of beer, setting it on the table before smiling at Harry. “I cook a lot. And bake a lot. And finally, I’ve someone to test all my recipes with,” he laughed, making Harry feel a bit warm in his stomach because – it sounded good. Like… like Elías actually wanted him in his home.

“Are you excited for the trip?” Lourdes asked him and Harry nodded.

“I’ve never been outside of England before,” he said and Lourdes gasped.

“Well, before you leave, we should take you outside! Have a little walk or picnic!” she grinned and Harry couldn’t ever remember Aunt Petunia wanting a _picnic_. Not when her dress or shoes could be ruined by mud and grass. But Lourdes seemed excited. “We could go to the _Parc de Woluwe_?” she shifted to French and Harry blinked. She knew French?

“Oh, that’d be nice,” Elías admitted, nodding. “We could sit outside, enjoy the sun if it’s out… show Harry around a bit so he can see Brussels.”

“Wasn’t there a magic town, kind of place you wanted to see here?” Juan hummed at Elías, who blinked. “ _Les Ardennes?_ ”

“Oh!” Elías jumped a bit. “No, no, that’s – a potioneer town. Severus offered to show me around there, so we’ll probably go later in the summer.”

“Make sure to say hi if we’re here, yes?” Lourdes reached over to brush some of Elías’ hair behind his ear, looking sad. “We barely see you now that you’re at Hogwarts…”

“I’ll be in San Fernando most of the summer, ma,” he took her hand and kissed the back of it before smiling at Harry. “You and me both, bud!”

“You and me both,” Harry repeated quietly, thinking of Snape.

He’d changed. And Harry knew it because he didn’t yell or insult Hermione anymore, and he had taken to staying quiet instead of screaming at students like Neville. The silent treatment was way better and Neville’s boggart hadn’t been Snape anymore, by the end of the year. Harry still hated him – especially after he’d threatened Sirius and hut Professor Lupin but apparently, Professor Lupin and Elías were just fine with him. Harry didn’t really buy it – the man was a right git and he stopped himself from wrinkling his nose at the thought of seeing him over the summer. If Elías and he were as good friends as Pansy and Theo seemed to think, surely he would.

A yawn broke out of Harry and he quickly covered his mouth, making Elías smile softly at him, brushing Harry’s hair out of his eyes tenderly. The gesture was really nice and Harry was tempted to lean into it.

“Tired?” the professor asked.

“Yes, sorry,” he murmured.

“It’s alright,” Elías assured. “Go ahead and brush your teeth, yeah? You can go to bed early, if you want. Or just rest up in your room. Grab a book, even, if you’d like.”

“Oh, uh, but the table –”

“You’re here for the first day, so I think it’s okay for you not to get involved with cleaning,” Elías chuckled, giving him a little wink. “I expect you to clean up after yourself, of course, but… well, tonight’s a bit special. And you’ve just come from exams and Hogwarts and a long train ride. You deserve some rest, kid.”

Harry felt something warm hit him in the stomach and he rubbed it, eyes stinging as he nodded and stood, feeling a bit rude, not cleaning up, but Lourdes and Juan didn’t seem mad.

“Goodnight,” he whispered to the two of them.

“Goodnight, Harry,” Lourdes smiled.

“ _Buenas noches, Harry_ ,” Juan nodded, grinning as well and Harry turned around, left the dining and living room and entered the guest room to sit for a moment and wonder if it’d always be this nice, this gentle, this… understanding.

Picnics and dessert and a place at the table and a gentle reminder to brush his teeth, to take care of himself? Harry rubbed his cheek and tried not to sniffle too hard, wishing Hermione and Ron were here and he could tell them about all of this. They’d been worried, he knew, and…

Harry opened his trunk rapidly, searching for some spare parchment, thankful that his leftover ink hadn’t spilled over his books. He took his quill, sat next to the nightstand and began to write twin letters to Ron and Hermione, telling them both of his day, the adoption, of Tonks and Brussels, of Elías and his parents and dinner and all these nice things that he wasn’t sure he deserved or would get to keep forever. And when he was done, he reached for Hedwig’s cage and tied the letters to her talons, giving her two treats after holding her close to calm down.

Walking out of the room, he nearly bumped into Lourdes and she screeched and jumped five feet in the air, moving back with wide eyes.

“What is _that_?!” she asked, eyes wide. “Owl? Is that an _owl?!_ ”

“Er… yes, it’s my owl, Hedwig,” Harry’s shoulders curled. “I-I’m sorry, I wanted to send a letter to my friends –”

“That’s fine! That’s fine, _tesoro_ , it’s all good!” she reassured, hand over her chest. “Just… don’t let her bite me or get near me? Her eyes – her eyes are _huge_.”

“She’s an owl,” Harry said, not wanting to laugh but her reaction was frankly hilarious, gently touching Hedwig to calm her down. “See? Harmless. She’s really good.”

“Oh, it’s a she,” Lourdes stayed against the wall, laughing nervously as she waved at Hedwig, making Harry snort, hiding it under his hand. “There, there. Good girl. Please, don’t bring her closer.”

“I won’t,” Harry promised. “Sorry, Lourdes.”

“That’s fine, it’s your pet! It’s your pet, as… weird and exotic and bad-smelling and pooping-everywhere it is!” she lifted her hands and Harry moved out of the hallway, feeling like he understood now why Juan and Elías had been amused about his owl.

“Hey – sending a letter before bed?” Elías asked as he carried some plates the muggle way, smiling at him.

“Yes, to Ron and Hermione,” he nodded. “Is… that alright?”

“Absolutely!” Elías encouraged. “You can also use the phone for Hermione, you know?”

“Oh,” Harry blinked, realizing it. “Right, uh, muggle.”

“Mhmm, muggle,” Elías chuckled, walking to the kitchen and Harry reached the balcony and let Hedwig fly off, seeing the stars a bit better than if he’d been in London. The night was cold and he looked over the street, hearing French speakers, a few people walking their dogs. The buildings were old and beautiful and the lights of the lampposts were flickering on as the sun disappeared on the horizon, music still playing, and as Harry leaned into the railing, he thought that maybe Ron had been right, what he’d said before they parted ways in Platform 9¾.

Maybe Harry’s luck was just turning around.

* * *

He had the courage to open the gifts Lourdes and Juan had under the bed on the fourth and final day in Brussels, early in the morning, his trunk ready and already dressed. Elías had told him that they’d leave at nine and they’d go by car all the way to the south of Spain, a few days’ trip, so he was up and ready at eight, looking at two little boxes in his hands, wrapped in gold and burgundy.

Elías had probably told them that he liked those colors. And he did. He really did, gently ripping apart the wrapping over the first box and opening it, finding a wooden box. Harry pulled his legs up to the bed, crossing them before opening the box, finding an ink stamp pad in deep red, looking at it with a frown until he realized there was something else in the box.

Slowly, he pulled out the stamp inside, looking at the designed drawn on the back. A phoenix flew, wings spread, the illustration looking antique and beautiful. And under, in clear letting, was his name. _Harry James Potter_. He didn’t know why he needed a stamp with his name but the fact that this had been personalized and given to him so carefully made him clutch the gift tight to his chest, swallowing hard. No one had ever taken so much care into a gift except his friends and it wasn’t even his _birthday_. These people didn’t know him and yet they’d put so much effort into the gift.

He quickly scrambled to get the second one and he found a pocket watch. Intricate, silver, with engraved sea waves on the front in beautiful carved detailing. Harry looked over it, fascinated before he turned it around, looking at the back. There was something in Spanish there, two lines of text he didn’t understand. He’d ask Elías for it later.

The inside of the watch was pretty standard but his own name was also engraved there, on the inside of the lid, his thumb brushing it. The watch read eight thirty in the morning and he heard movement outside, a shower starting, making him look at the chain. The watch seemed very new and Harry wondered just what it said in the back as he pocketed the watch, putting the stamp inside his trunk carefully, between socks, because that’s where all the delicate things went.

In the last four days, he’d learned way more about Elías than he had in an entire school year and a near-death experience at the hands of Dementors. He’d learned about his family, about Lourdes’ fondly annoyed disposition towards her husband and son’s absurd humor, about Juan’s easygoing nature and his tendency to let out the most contagious laugh, and especially about his Astronomy Professor.

He’d been born in a port town, that he’d known thanks to Theo, but he hadn’t realized just how important the sea and stars apparently were to him until he realized that the trinkets and decorations around this apartment were all for navigation purposes. Looking at them, though, made Harry think about Sirius, the brightest star in the sky. And his Godfather, running from the authorities. When he’d confessed quietly to Elías that he missed him, he’d asked his father for the telescope and took him at night to the furthest park from the city, finding the star for Harry, teaching him how.

“He’ll always be there for you. He loves you very much – and things are complicated now, I won’t deny it. But Sirius is innocent and one day we’ll catch Pettigrew. And Sirius will be free,” he’d said, sitting on the grass, sharing a delicious cookie with Harry that they’d baked together that afternoon.

“How do you know?” Harry had asked.

“I’ll tell you soon,” he’d replied, watching the stars. “When we leave.”

It wasn’t reassuring, but something told Harry that whatever it was that Elías had almost told him at the Shack, whatever it was that Sirius stopped him from saying, whatever it was that he still couldn’t tell Harry – it was important. And probably a dangerous secret. And Elías was going to tell him, trust him. That was enough, he’d found.

When he finally walked out of the guest room, he found Juan in uniform, startling him. Today was Monday, yes but he hadn’t seen him ever in uniform, it was… jarring. Deep navy pants with a red line on the sides, white shirt with the star… shoulder things. Very official, all of it and Harry would’ve never guessed that Juan, who made ridiculous noises while he stuck two chopsticks in his mouth to imitate a walrus and make Elías and Harry choke on their takeout, would be in the _navy_.

“Good morning, Harry,” he whispered, not wanting to wake Lourdes up. “Are you ready for the car trip?”

“Yes, sir,” he said before he could help it, nodding.

“Just Juan, just Juan,” he assured him again, patting his arm before looking at his watch. “Well, I’ve got to leave for work so I suppose I’ll see you in San Fernando in a week, yes?” he smiled and Harry hesitated before he finally spoke.

“I… I opened the gifts,” he pulled up the pocket watch, clutching it tight.

“Ah! Did you like them?” Juan’s hand moved to his shoulder, a reassuring weight that Harry had come to enjoy a lot in these past four days. “Lourdes and I wanted to make sure you had things we all did, in the family. The stamp is Oviedo, the watch is Fernández.”

“Oviedo?” Harry asked, remembering that Lourdes hadn’t taken Juan’s last name and Elías actually had two last names. Spanish people apparently did it that way.

“Yeah, the Oviedo’s have their stamps,” he chuckled. “They’re mostly used for books. I don’t know if you read much, but we all do, quite a lot. Elías himself has a very big collection of books and music. Maybe you could start one.”

“Y-yeah,” Harry replied. He didn’t read a lot but because the books he’d read were from Hermione, and they were pretty boring. “I… am not a big reader.”

“No?” Juan paused, narrowing his eyes before lifting a single finger. “Could I give you one? It’s in English, and if you don’t like it, it’s alright. But – you know, just in case.”

“Yes – yes, of course,” Harry nodded. These people had been so good to him, reading one book wouldn’t kill him, even if it was boring. He didn’t want to disappoint Juan.

The man turned to the shelves in the hallway and as he searched for the book, another door opened and Elías stumbled out, his hair everywhere and eyes still red from sleep, wearing basketball shorts and an oversized, holey shirt. It was such a big contrast from the composed, sleek-haired presentation he always gave that Harry laughed, quickly covering his mouth.

“Morning,” Juan greeted, grinning at him and Elías grunted in reply, hand moving to ruffle Harry’s hair before he slipped into the bathroom. Harry smiled a bit, feeling more at easy now that he’d seen Elías like that. He wasn’t the stuck-up, prideful type of Slytherin like Blaise and sometimes Pansy were, freaking out if their hair wasn’t right. “Ah, here it is!”

Harry turned to Juan, the man handing him a book and Harry gently took it, looking at the cover. _Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?_

When Harry laughed, Juan grinned, tapping it, “It’s my favorite book.”

“Is it?” Harry’s eyes widened, then he opened it, seeing a stamped seal of a ship at a storm, breaking a wave, _Juan Fernández Suárez._ “…I thought the seals were from the Oviedos?”

“I was given one by Lourdes’ mother,” he explained and Harry looked up at him, seeing Juan smiling softly. “We got married at twenty-six, so they gifted me this.”

“Like a welcome,” Harry felt his throat tight. “To the family.”

“Mhmm,” Juan nodded.

“What does the watch – the pocket watch say? On the back, I… don’t know Spanish,” Harry pulled it up but Juan replied easily.

“ _Si mi voz muriera en tierra, llevadla al nivel del mar_ ,” he said. “It’s… not really a motto? We don’t have mottos in the family, that’s for Americans. But we do have poetry that we’ve recited in weddings, in funerals and the like. This is from Rafael Alberti and Lourdes and I really like him. Since Elías enjoys him, too, we thought it’d be fitting.”

“What does it mean?” Harry looked at the engraved words, curious.

“If my voice dies in land,” Juan recited, making Harry look up. “Take it to sea level.”

“Why that one?” Harry asked curiously and Juan crossed his arms, giving a lopsided smile.

“You’ve probably noticed that I’m in the navy by now,” he gestured at the _Col. Fernández Suarez_ in the tag on his chest. Harry didn’t know if coronel was a lot or not, he didn’t know much about the navy. “Our family has a lot of military men and women in it. So we’re all pretty dispersed but we all hail from Cádiz, from San Fernando.”

“Oh,” Harry pushed up his glasses, “So… your hometown is by the sea?”

“Yes,” Juan nodded. “And we like it to be.”

“Sea is important to you,” Harry said, looking back down at the engraving of the pocket watch and the ship at storm in blue ink on the first page of the book. “Is it important to Elías, too?”

“Mhmm,” Juan nodded. “I hope you like it. I hope you enjoy San Fernando.”

“I hope so, too,” Harry confessed quietly. “Is it nice?”

“The nicest,” Juan said.

“Then why are you here in Brussels?” Harry was confused.

“Because again, work,” Juan shrugged. “My destination changes quite a lot. This time, I’ve been destined three years here in Brussels. I’ve worked here before, a lot of times, but they’re possibly giving me an extension. Job pays well, we’re in the center of Europe, we get good discounts so we can save money for retirement – I can’t complain, truly.”

“Do you miss it?” Harry asked, rubbing his thumb on the waves of silver. It was a soothing motion.

“I do. We all do – Elías too,” he pointed at the closed bathroom door where the shower sounds stopped. “Especially Elías.”

“He has a tattoo of waves,” Harry pointed out. “In his arm.”

“Yes, he does,” Juan sighed, chuckling. “Not that I like any of them, mind you.”

“I like them,” Harry whispered, looking down at the book with a sheep on the cover. It was used, very obviously cherished. “I’ll read it,” he decided, looking up at Juan. “Thank you. For – for the stamp and the watch and the book. I never – you both have been really kind and nice and I don’t know how to repay –”

“That’s the point,” Juan interrupted gently, lifting Harry’s chin with a thumb, looking at him with the same expressive eyes as Elías and giving him a kind smile. “Not to repay, Harry. But for you to feel good and at ease, okay?”

“Alright,” Harry swallowed, nodding, feeling Juan’s hair ruffle his hair gently and finally giving in, leaning into the touch. He resisted hugging him, though. That, he could still do. “Thank you, Juan.”

The name came out worse than he thought it would but Juan gave him a grin and slapped his back heartily, moving back and reaching for his bag, “Well, I’ve to go, Harry. See you in a week.”

“See you,” Harry waved, watching him leave, pocket watch in his hand and a feeling of accomplishment in his stomach.

* * *

“Alright,” Elías groaned as he shut the door of the pilot seat and Harry stared at the wheel, still baffled by the fact that it was on the left side of the car. “So we’ve got quite a few hours ahead of us. Twenty one, to be exact, in the driveway. We’re gonna divide them into two days, so… ten and a half hours a day,” he ran a hand through his hair, loose, pulling down his sunglasses and setting a water bottle aside.

“That’s a lot of hours,” Harry provided, watching him. “Is it going to be alright for you?”

“Yeah, we’ll take breaks,” Elías shrugged, giving him a little grin. “I enjoy driving. Clears my head. I thought it’d clear yours of every stupidly dangerous and unnecessary thing that happened this school year.”

Harry blew out a loud breath, sinking into his seat. “I feel like I’d need a _month_ of driving for that.”

Elías laughed, rolling the window down before putting on his seatbelt, Harry following him. They’d prepared lunch and Harry had a map on his lap, ready to help Elías work through the road. Harry didn’t have sunglasses but he wished he did, the sun for once glaring through the windows. They had his trunk in the back, Hedwig in her cage with a blanket thrown on top so she could sleep in peace and the tank of the car was full.

Harry slipped off his shoes to get comfortable and took off his hoodie, putting it on the backseat, watching Elías turn off the radio and pull his hair back into a quick braid. He looked at the ocean waves tattooed on his shoulder and arm, and then the snake as well, wondering why he’d decided to get those. Tattoos seemed so painful and unnecessary, even if some looked nice. Harry would never willingly put himself under a thousand needles.

“O- _kay_ ,” Elías gripped the wheel, turning to Harry. “You ready? Nothing forgotten?”

“All good,” Harry gave a small smile, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Then let’s get on the road already,” Elías started the car, pulled out effortlessly and moved onto the road, tapping the wheel. “Any song requests?”

“Song requests?” Harry looked at the radio, “We didn’t bring any cassettes, did you?”

“No need for those,” Elías hummed. “I can play any song.”

“ _Any_ song?” Harry blinked, confused.

“Any song that I _know_ ,” he corrected, lifting a ringed finger. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t realize you didn’t know this until now. But yeah, I studied music and did some fun experimenting with sound spells.”

“So you’re a walking radio,” Harry snorted, hand over his mouth.

“If I had a penny for every time someone called me walking radio, I’d have two pennies,” Elías stated. “Which isn’t much but it’s funny that it happened twice.”

Harry laughed hard, hand over his mouth, watching his Astronomy Professor look very happy with himself as Harry giggled.

“If you won’t choose a song, I think I’ll show you one, if you don’t mind,” Elías spoke up, glancing at Harry briefly before looking back to the road.

“Alright,” Harry nodded before looking out his window to the thousands of trees passing by. It was hard to think that they were in the middle of Brussels. If it was London, he wouldn’t see a single tree unless he was in a park. Or if he did, probably would be a sad tree.

The song that began to play was nice and absolutely not what Harry was used to listening to. There was synth and beats and a guitar solo. Harry liked it, foot moving against the carpet of the car, watching as they slid into the highway, out of central Brussels.

“Do you like it?” Elías asked and Harry hummed.

“Yes. S’nice,” he rubbed his nose and adjusted his glasses.

“This song is called Sirius,” Elías said and Harry’s head turned so fast to Elías that his neck should’ve probably broken, eyes wide and a huge grin taking over his face, seeing Elías smile at the road. “It’s by The Alan Parsons Project.”

“That’s really cool,” Harry grinned, now feeling a bit warm in his chest, thinking of Sirius and the letter he planned to send him when they arrived to San Fernando.

“He has incredible albums, but especially this one, Eye In the Sky,” Elías explained, making Harry fully turn to him, listening politely. Harry didn’t know much about music, so he couldn’t really say anything of substance but Elías explained things well. He’d only passed Astronomy because he’d actually been encouraged to ask in his class.

“Sounds nice,” was all Harry could mumble and Elías gave a soft laugh.

“It does,” he murmured, sighing a bit. “I’m a bit sad I didn’t get to show Sirius this one. We mostly talked about bands he already knew, before Azkaban and all.”

“He likes music, too?” Harry asked, wanting to hear more about him.

“Oh, he _does_ ,” Elías nodded, grinning. “Probably just as much as I.”

“Did he study music, too? Like you?” Harry played with a loose string of his flannel.

“Ah, you know that, then?” Elías glanced over at him and Harry shrugged. “You know, I’m quite aware of the rumors you students say. Don’t need to be shy, I’m not going to be mad. I _did_ study in muggle college, I _did_ study music and I _did_ live as a muggle until I went to Hogwarts for this past year.”

“Why?” Harry blurted out before he could help it, frowning, and Elías seemed startled by the question but Harry just didn’t _get it_. “Magic is amazing. Why would you want to go back to muggles?”

“It wasn’t amazing for me,” Elías said softly, speaking slowly and Harry frowned a bit. “I’m a muggleborn, Harry.”

“I’m practically one, too, I was raised as a muggle,” he retorted and Elías sighed.

“But both your parents were magic,” Elías explained, making Harry nod. “When you went to Hogwarts it was probably really awful – everyone knew everything about the world. Everyone kept telling you about things you had no idea about – things about _yourself_.”

Harry swallowed, remembering his First Year, “Yes, I… so many people told me about my parents. About Volde –” he paused, not wanting to bother Elías but the man nodded.

“Voldemort, yeah,” he said effortlessly and Harry relaxed. “They made you feel out of the loop. And took offense when you asked them to explain or told them you didn’t know.”

“…yes,” Harry admitted.

“Well, imagine _not_ being The Boy Who Lived,” Elías said and Harry paused, frowning, not understanding. “Imagine that everyone knows you come from muggles. Imagine that once that confusion was done… people just thought you were dirty. Stupid. Like someone who is incapable of doing anything good at all, and if you do, you’re cheating somehow.”

“Cheating?” Harry asked, thinking of Hermione and how she was constantly dismissed in her incredible grades and super smart talk. “But how can you _cheat_ at magic –”

“You can’t,” Elías cut in gently, sighing, lifting his glasses up his eyes as the sun disappeared under a cloud, lowering the volume of the song that played next. “But it’s the way blood purists think – muggles cannot be magic, so they stole magic from another legitimate wizard. They’re cheating, they’re lying, they’re deceiving everyone and they can’t possibly be _better_ at magic than a legitimate wizard, you know?”

“That’s disgusting,” Harry stated, wincing, hating every single word that came out of Elías’ mouth.

“I left the wizarding world because I was tired of being accused of cheating. Because even if I hadn’t flunked Potions tremendously, I would’ve never been able to reach the title of Potions Master. Because even if I’d studied my ass off for the N.E.W.T.s, there was nothing left in that world that gave me any sort of happiness. The muggle world did.”

“…the muggle world gave me the Dursley’s,” Harry murmured and Elías sighed.

“Yeah, it did,” Elías rubbed his jaw for a moment, glancing quick at Harry. “They were awful people, Harry. Simply horrible. You did not deserve the treatment they gave you and you did not deserve all those years of abuse and neglect.”

“I know,” Harry told him, because he felt like Elías didn’t know that he _knew_. He’d always known that the Dursley’s were awful, no questions asked. It was the adults who didn’t believe it, and did nothing about it. Until Professor Lupin and Elías, of course. “…I’m sorry you had a bad experience at Hogwarts. Hermione gets treated badly, too.”

“Yeah,” Elías sighed. “The thing is, I mean – I like magic, Harry. I love Potions and Astronomy and the creatures and the castle. I _love_ it. But I had no fond memories of Hogwarts.”

Harry nodded, kind of understanding and feeling sad that someone could see Hogwarts and not feel happiness. It’d been his home since he’d crossed those doors and for him and his friends, it felt like a safe haven. He couldn’t imagine Elías as someone his age, someone younger and sad. The man looked very happy, normally.

“I’m sorry,” Elías spoke up quietly and Harry startled, staring at him. “I didn’t mean to lay that onto you. I know that you feel aversion to the expectations everyone has of you. You’ve suffered under wizarding hands and I don’t want to pretend like I had it so much harder than you – because I didn’t.”

“I didn’t think you were saying that,” Harry assured, a bit awkwardly.

“Oh,” Elías blinked at the road, shifting his grip on the wheel. “Okay, uh – good. I’m glad.”

“I’m just… sad that you didn’t enjoy Hogwarts,” Harry confessed quietly. “Because Hogwarts is – it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Ron and Hermione, the Weasley’s, all my House mates… even Professor Lupin and Sirius.”

“Yeah, it’s understandable,” Elías murmured, nodding. “I’m glad you’re having a good experience, Harry. You certainly deserve it.”

“Thanks,” Harry relaxed a bit more on his seat, conversation over and he listened to the songs Elías played while he got distracted watching the countryside and thinking about Sirius.

It was about an hour in or so that he finally caved in and spoke up, turning to the Spaniard with curious eyes, “Hey, Elías?” he called.

“Hmm?” the man had rolled the window up as a summer storm began to brew above them and he’d left his sunglasses permanently over his head.

“Can we talk?” he asked. “About uh… Sirius?”

Elías blinked hard, giving a laugh, “Sirius? You wanna talk about Sirius?”

“Yes, I do,” Harry clutched at his hoodie, swallowing. “Is it – is it alright?”

“Absolutely fine, the man’s your Godfather, Harry,” Elías replied, grabbing his water bottle and taking a few gulps before putting it aside. “Alright. Go for it.”

“How did you meet?! Like, what happened?! Did you know from the beginning?! Or – or – you said you knew! And then you held back and Sirius was like, _Pettigrew can’t know_! And I was so confused because if not because of the map and – and if Professor Lupin didn’t know until _you_ then –”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Elías laughed, hand moving to pat Harry’s arm. “Calm down, there, cowboy! That’s a _lot_ to ask, why don’t we just start one question at a time?”

“Right,” Harry flushed, embarrassed by his own enthusiasm. “Right, sorry, er – when… did all of the hiding in the Shack began?”

“Do you remember when Sirius got into the Gryffindor Tower?” Elías began and Harry nodded. “Crookshanks stole the passwords from Neville’s nightstand and Sirius slipped inside with a godsdamn knife. Well, _I_ had no idea about that. I had gone out with Remus to San Fernando, to have some dinner and relax and forget about this super stressful time and – what do I see when I come back to my rooms?”

“Sirius,” Harry laughed, grinning.

“He _attacked_ me,” Elías scowled, making Harry’s eyes widen. “He tried to grapple me, probably thought he could take me by surprise and leave me unconscious or something of the like.”

“Did he?” Harry asked.

“No,” Elías snorted. “I broke his nose and immobilized _him_.”

“You _broke_ Sirius’ nose?” Harry gasped, on the edge of his seat. “How –”

“Wizards can’t fight for shit, remember that,” Elías pointed at Harry, giving him a serious look. “Some wizard tries to hurt you? Ditch the wand, give that sucker a nosebleed, they’ll be sobbing in no time and you can kick them in the mouth.”

Harry was silent for a moment, eyes wide, trying not to laugh as he suddenly realized why Snape had given Elías such a dry look when the professor had told them that violence wasn’t the answer.

“…don’t do that, that’s – that’s _bad_ advice,” Elías pointed at him as Harry began to laugh, unable to help it. “Do not – do _not_ punch anyone or kick them in the mouth – Harry – _Harry_ , I’m _trying_ to be a good guardian, please don’t laugh – don’t laugh at m-me,” he giggled hard, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry! I just – you told Theo and I that the answer isn’t violence and – you _literally punched_ Sirius,” Harry laughed.

“I followed it up with an _episkey_! I’m responsible! Hey – _hey_ , please, for real, don’t punch people, alright? Or kick them in the mouth. I was merely talking from an extreme moment of need, yeah?”

“Yes, yes, I understand,” Harry said, still amused, looking at Elías with different eyes. “So you punched him. And then fixed his nose.”

“And then Severus rushed to my rooms so I had to hide him under the bed. Told him that I knew he was innocent before he did, though,” Elías said and Harry blinked.

“Wait, but how did you _know_?” Harry frowned.

“Ho boy, right,” Elías took a deep breath, grimacing. “This is the part where I actually tell you. And – and _trust_ me, Harry, it’s… quiet insane. Like, _batshit crazy_ levels of insane and you’re not going to believe me at first like, _I wouldn’t believe me_. Plus, you’ve had… Trelawney doing her _thing_ all year so –”

“I get that you’re nervous, Elías,” Harry cut in, voice dry. “But I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sassy. Alright. _Mierda_. Fine! Yeah, uh…” he cleared his throat. “Right. Promise not to freak out?”

“I promise,” Harry lied, point-blank.

“Right,” Elías cleared his throat, taking a deep breath and nodding. Then, “I’m a seer.”

Harry stared.

“A… _what_?” Harry wheezed.

“A seer,” Elías repeated, blue eyes meeting his for a moment before quickly going back front.

“A – a seer or a _seer_?” Harry questioned, frowning.

“What – what kind of question is that? A seer!” Elías explained. “I can see the future! And – and the past and present, for that matter. Actually, it’s up for debate whether I’m a seer or not, it gets pretty crazy. It’s – _ho boy_ , it’s been _quite_ a year of discoveries in that department.”

“You can see the _future_ ,” Harry stated, trying to wrap his head around that, watching Elías in his tattoos, his muggle sunglasses and frankly awful patterned button-up. It felt like he was being pranked on and he paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes. “Is this a joke?”

“No!” Elías laughed. “Oh my Gods, it’s not a j – look, _look_ , it’s pretty crazy but I promise you it’s real. It’s actually the reason why I came to Hogwarts as a professor. Dumbledore offered me protection, and I took it.”

“Protection from what?” Harry murmured, leaning back against the door.

“The Carrow twins – they attacked a muggle girl and I put them in jail. Well, now Alecto is the only one in Azkaban but uh… yeah.”

“So you know things that will happen,” Harry began and Elías sighed.

“That’s – it’s _complicated_ ,” his brow furrowed and he changed the grip on the wheel. “I wish I could tell you things that are going to happen but… well, most of them are _possibilities_ , you know? Just… glimpses of things that _could_ happen. And one of them, for me, a recurring one was… you and Sirius. Standing in front of Hogwarts – just… talking about him being free and being a family again.”

Harry felt a pang in his chest and he watched Elías with a slow feeling of gratefulness.

“Is that why you were so nice to me?” Harry asked him, searching Elías’ face when it turned into surprise.

“What? No! No, no, of course not!” Elías quickly said and Harry let out a startled breath at that. “Of _course_ not. I simply – I was worried, Harry. I was worried about you and you’re a really sweet and kind boy. I saw so many red flags from the way you acted and spoke, I didn’t want you to keep _suffering_. I like you, you know?”

“You do?” Harry said before he could hold it back.

“ _Yes_ ,” Elías reached over, running his nails through Harry’s hair, making him melt into the touch. That was nice, nails against his scalp, gently scratching. He leaned into it before he could help it and Elías gave a small smile. “I like you, kiddo.”

“I like you, too,” Harry whispered, looking over at him and Elías gave him such a bright smile that he eventually relaxed. “So you knew because you saw us.”

“Yeah,” Elías murmured, nodding. “Sirius knows. About, you know, my whole seer thing. The staff knows, Dumbledore and my family – the latter not to ah, the extent it is, though. They just know I can see the future sometimes. Go a bit whoozy.”

Harry gasped, jumping in his seat. “Is that why you fainted so much?!”

“Yep,” Elías popped the p. “I can more or less feel when they come but sometimes they’re really abrupt.”

“I thought you were sick or something,” Harry let out a sigh of relief, eyes wide on the ceiling of the car. “But no, you were just _seeing the future_. Blimey.”

“Blimey, yeah,” Elías snorted and Harry gave a laugh. “Yeah, uh, I’m like a seer but on crack. We don’t know what exactly goes on with me – seers give prophecies and the like and I haven’t given any? Also, I can see the _past_ , which is weird? Lots of things to consider.”

“Have you asked Dumbledore?” Harry offered. “He’d know about this!”

Elías very obviously tried not to make a sour face and Harry looked away – he knew the Slytherin wasn’t fond of the Headmaster but he thought that maybe the man would be able to ask him for help. Normally, someone who didn’t like Dumbledore would be on Harry’s bad side – even Snape liked Dumbledore – but Elías apparently was an exception.

“I’ve asked him,” Elías said but Harry didn’t believe him much. “He knows as much as we do – which is barely anything.”

“Have… you seen anything important? In the future?” Harry asked him, a bit anxiously. If there was anything they could go off on –

“Some things,” Elías admitted, nodding before a small smile took over his lips. “I saw you. Older. With Hermione and Ron. After everything bad and good was done.”

Harry’s heart leaped, feeling absolute relief that at the end of it all, his two best friends would be at his side. He wanted to ask for details, for wounds or scars, for anything that could help him prevent harm for his friends but he stayed quiet, watching Elías, a bit afraid of the answer.

“You three were okay,” Elías told him, hand moving to pat his knee. “And I believe that no matter what happens, Harry, you three will be alright. As long as you all love each other and help each other, you’ll be alright.”

“Good to know,” Harry swallowed.

“You’ve got very good people around you,” Elías spoke honestly, Harry could identify that tone from previous conversations he’d had with the Astronomy Professor. “Very, _very_ good people around you. Hermione is brilliant and Ron has such a kind heart.”

“I know,” he rasped, thinking of the way Hermione had immediately launched into Dumbledore’s plan, executing it perfectly, with bravery, without a single shake of her hand. How Ron had stated to Sirius proudly that he wouldn’t done the same as him if Hermione or Harry had been killed. It made his stomach flutter, how much he loved his friends.

“That’s the biggest power you have,” Elías told him firmly and Harry watched him with surprise, knowing this speech from Dumbledore before. “The love you hold for everyone, Harry. Severus told me what you did, in your Second Year, with the basilisk.”

“Oh,” Harry mumbled, curling up a bit in his seat. What had Snape told him?

“You saved Ginny,” Elías murmured. “And though my inner adult is screaming at the thought of you going against a giant _killer snake_ , I’m also disturbingly proud of you for it.”

“That’s the general feeling everyone had about it,” Harry snorted and Elías gave a laugh.

“I know the Weasley’s care about you, too,” Elías murmured, turning to him with a small smile before quickly looking back at the road. “I know so do the Granger’s. And Tonks, Remus, Sirius – and even the Slytherin group, in their own way,” he chuckled.

“Theo,” Harry murmured, thinking of the blue-eyed boy who hadn’t hesitated to throw himself at Oscar Wilkes. “He’s – he’s a good friend.”

“Mhmm, he’s a very good boy,” Elías nodded, sighing, chewing on his lower lip, looking worried.

“Malfoy –” Harry’s jaw clicked shut just as fast as he’d blurted out the name, immediately regretting it but Elías perked up, sitting up straighter.

“Yes?” he encouraged and Harry let out a frustrated sigh.

“He… apologized,” he mumbled and Elías’ eyebrows shot up.

“He did?” the professor looked surprised. “He didn’t tell me?”

“It was – it wasn’t a _real apology_ , it just felt like one,” Harry made a face, wrinkling his nose. “He uh… said he tried to stop the execution. He and the rest of the Slytherins were all leaving the school to go to his house, almost got in trouble for it if it weren’t for Professor McGonagall letting it slide. Apparently, Buckbeak is now free, even if he ran off.”

“Oh, but that’s good!” Elías said, face bright. “Buckbeak won’t face anything bad if he ever returns to Hagrid!”

“Yes, it’s nice,” Harry murmured, going over that conversation again and again in his head, sighing deeply. “It was weird,” he confessed.

“What? Draco helping you?” Elías asked.

“No, just – him actually feeling… bad for something he did,” Harry frowned, staring at the road, shrugging. “I don’t know what made him change his mind. It was too late, anyway. Buckbeak would’ve been executed if Hermione and I hadn’t used the time-turner.”

“Yeah,” Elías nodded and when Harry looked at him, he seemed elated. It clicked into place, then, that Elías had gone to talk to Draco before he and his friends had gone under the invisibility cape to see Hagrid.

“It was you,” Harry breathed, eyes wide and Elías slowly nodded. “What – what did you say to him? What –”

“I told him to have some empathy, is all,” Elías shrugged. “Draco comes from a family that has suffered a lot of losses, Harry, and –”

“The Malfoy’s?” Harry’s eyebrows shot up, not believing it. “What have _they_ lost? Sirius lost his freedom! My parents were killed and a bunch more –”

“In a war, Harry,” Elías cut in firmly, making Harry’s mouth shut quick. “Nobody wins. Especially not the soldiers. Countless lives were lost and I know very well that the Malfoy’s and many others lost a lot of friends and family, just like you and everyone else did.”

“I didn’t know,” Harry said, a bit defensively.

“I know, that’s why I’m telling you,” Elías replied gently, moving a hand to pat his knee. “You don’t know much of what happened, and that’s alright. You’re still very young and I don’t want you to know the nitty-gritty. Not until it… becomes important for you to know.”

“But I want to _know_ ,” Harry gritted his teeth, a bit angry.

“And you will,” Elías promised, annoying Harry with his tone of voice. “But not now. It’s summer, Harry. You’ve been through a lot this year and I think it’d do you well to just be a thirteen year old kid who doesn’t have school for almost three months, yeah?”

“Alright, fine,” Harry sighed, adjusting his glasses. “You – you won’t keep me in the dark forever, right?” he murmured.

“I won’t,” Elías promised, looking serious and honest and Harry felt himself relax at that. At the very least, he could believe him on that. “I promise, Harry, that I’ll actually tell you when the time comes.”

“Hm,” was all Harry said, playing with the map on his lap and chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Did… did you see my parents?” he asked curiously, quietly.

“In one of my Sights? Yes,” Elías nodded, giving a little smile. “Quite a lot, in fact. And I’ve seen you, as well, tiny little you,” he laughed. “So much hair already. Sirius kept putting you in little pigtails, it was adorable.”

Harry laughed a bit, chest hurting a bit. He missed Sirius. “Tell me about him?”

“More about Sirius? Okay, okay,” Elías laughed. “Well, his favorite band is the Clash and the Sex Pistols, which is _so very telling_ of him.”

“I don’t know either of those,” Harry mumbled, embarrassed. Music was obviously important to his Godfather and Elías and yet he knew nothing. He knew that Theodore was learning to play the drums with Elías and he’d begun to listen to music recently but Harry just… liked songs or not.

“Hmm, they’re punk,” Elías explained, giving him a smile. “Which is very political, anti-system and the like. Your Godfather has very strong political opinions, just like I do, and the music he enjoys reflects that. He’s very bullheaded, quick to anger and quick to laugh. He has an _absurdly_ stupid sense of humor,” he chuckled, shaking his head, making Harry smile. “And honestly, you can always count on him to have a good time.”

“I wish he was here,” Harry murmured, sighing.

“We’ll see him again,” Elías assured just as rain began to beat down on them, a summer storm rolling over the deserted highway. “And when we do, you will personally get to know him.”

“I hope so,” Harry pulled his feet up on the seat, expecting to get yelled at about the posture but Elías simply gave him a small smile and he felt safer, more secure than he ever had in his entire life.

The extensive green fields of the Belgian countryside greeted him, tinged with the greys and blues of the storm, and he pressed his head against the cold window and sighed softly, letting his body relax, loosen up. When he closed his eyes, he realized that Elías had once more raised the volume of the music, and Harry listened for real this time, feeling like if he did, he’d have something to show Sirius when they saw each other again.

“ _I, I can remember. Standing, by the wall_ ,” the song played and Harry took off his glasses, setting them aside, using his hoodie to get comfortable. “ _And the guns, shot above our heads. And we kissed, as though nothing could fall. And the shame, was on the other side. Oh, we can beat them, forever and ever. Then we could be heroes, just for one day_ …”


	2. La Nueva Mañana

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another happy chapter!
> 
> Trigger warning for this Chapter:  
> \- Harry thinks of the Dursley's, very mild thoughts  
> \- Doubt and inadequacy
> 
> Songs in this Chapter:  
> \- Coge La Guitarra by Kiko Veneno  
> \- Moon (And It Went Like) by Kid Francescoli (This one I recommend you put on when Harry wakes up in the hotel!)

The first night out on the road, Elías set out camp in the mountains of the Pyrenees, waving his wand to set up a tent in a place that was mostly hidden and couldn’t have possibly known about if he hadn’t already been there. Harry had never gone out camping, not in his thirteen years of life, but he could say without a doubt that it was the best camping trip he would ever be in.

The tent was a bit bigger on the inside, with more or less comfortable cots, and when they both settled down for dinner, Elías showed him how to light a fire. Harry sat on the still sun-warmed grass, paying rapt attention, nodding before Elías showed him a few keychains he kept – one of them was a length of rope twined to a flint and tinder set and it wasn’t until Harry got the hang of it that Elías finally told him to keep it.

Harry did, putting it next to his pocket watch.

They stayed up for a while to watch the stars, backs pressed to the grass as Elías told him of the Greek legends linked to each constellation and Harry didn’t know if this was a different sky from Hogwarts but he felt like it was, breathing in deeply the fresh mountain air and wondering if this was what happiness felt like. When Elías fell asleep in the cot, Harry slipped out of the tent and laid back there again, not minding the cold, eyes on the moon and stars, soaking in the safety and relief he felt. If he fell asleep, he’d miss all of this.

He thought of his father, for a moment, suspended in the 4am breeze of the Franco-Spanish mountainside, and his eyes burned with everything he wished he could ask him, everything he wished he could’ve experience with him. His father, with Sirius and Professor Lupin and Elías, all of them going out camping. Maybe then it would’ve been his father who gave him the flint and tinder, maybe then it wouldn’t be so hard to think of Sirius, maybe then it wouldn’t make him feel like he’d missed out most of his life something that was so freely given to other people.

“Can’t sleep?” he heard a voice rasp out and Harry quickly sat up, rubbing at his eyes.

“I – just couldn’t,” he said nasally, clearing his throat, looking away.

“That’s alright,” Elías assured, taking a seat beside him and Harry didn’t dare look at the professor for fear he’d see Harry had been crying for a while now. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Harry assured, nodding quickly.

“You can say no,” Elías murmured and Harry paused, staring at the grass. “You can say no and not explain, Harry. You don’t have to lie.”

“Everyone wants me to explain,” Harry rasped, sniffling, rubbing hard at his nose. “And – and sometimes I just _can’t_.”

“Then don’t,” Elías repeated and Harry looked at him, frustrated.

“But people get angry!” he said.

“Let them,” Elías said firmly, in that no-bullshit voice he sometimes had, whenever he was telling Harry something serious. Harry stared, eyes big and wet, frustrated because Elías didn’t seem to understand. “Let them get angry.”

“I don’t want to make anyone angry,” Harry choked. “Not – not for _them_ , for _me_ , I’m tired of everyone being angry at me!”

“Well, people are going to be angry. And entitled. And feel like you owe them explanations and reasons as to why you feel the way you feel and why you are the way you are,” Elías replied, hand moving to brush Harry’s hair out of his face in a move that normally would make him flinch – but Elías wasn’t trying to look at his scar. Elías didn’t even glance at it, not even for a second. “People can scream and demand you to do things and feel things that you don’t want to do or that you don’t feel at all. And they can shout themselves hoarse, they can get red at the face, because they will always feel like they’ve some sense of entitlement over you and your person. This is happen no matter how old you get, no matter how much you do for everyone else.”

Harry went quiet, watching Elías, sniffling before he felt the professor’s thumb rubbing gently under his eye, wiping away a tear gathering there.

“You know what you tell those people?” Elías leaned in a bit, eyebrows raising.

“What?” Harry murmured.

“To go to hell,” Elías said firmly and Harry gave a laugh. “Go to hell! I don’t want you to question why I feel happy or why this makes me sad! A lot of times we don’t know why! And a lot of times you’ll feel sad for no reason, Harry, and that’s _okay_.”

“But if it comes from nowhere –” Harry began.

“It comes a lot of times from a chemical imbalance. Right here,” Elías tapped the middle of his forehead and Harry blew out a small breath. “It has nothing to do with you, Harry. When you start going to therapy, you’ll see it.”

“I’m a bit scared of that part,” Harry murmured, not even hesitating to tell Elías.

“Yeah, it can be scary,” Elías admitted, giving him a small smile. “But it’s like – like setting a bone back in place, yeah? Or like stitching a wound. At first it hurts. And it’ll hurt for a while, even after the worst part is done. And then one day… it just won’t anymore.”

“Have you gone?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” Elías laughed, nodding, leaning back against the grass with his hands behind him and a wide, amused grin. “Still going!”

Harry’s eyes widened, “Really?!”

“Started going at er… sixteen? I think? And have been going since,” he told Harry. “But I mean, it’s because I’m bipolar, and I’ve got diagnosed anxiety and all. I take meds for it and I have to keep myself in check.”

Harry’s stomach flopped a little with sadness, “I… I didn’t know that.”

“None of the students do. But you’re not just my student now,” Elías shrugged, making Harry swallow. That’s right, Elías was his guardian now. “And I don’t want to hide this. Mental health is something that will be taken very seriously in this home, Harry. You’ve gone through a lot, you’re going to go through a lot as a teenager and I want you to know that mental illness is something you can live with perfectly fine.”

Harry blew out a breath, eyes wide, watching Elías, “I… alright.”

“Do you have any questions?” Elías asked kindly.

“What’s – what’s it like? Having bipolar?” he asked.

“Bipolarity,” Elías corrected and Harry nodded. “Well, it’s – it’s not that I’m suddenly happy, then immediately sad. It’s not that easy. I fluctuate between periods of stability and periods of instability. I can be just fine or slip into hypomania or depression. Depression is… easier to acknowledge. I get very tired, unmotivated and sad. Everything I like to do is pointless and I tend to turn to self-hatred. Medication helps with that, and with anxiety too. Hypomania is more difficult, because I tend to be boisterous when I’m happy. It can lead to irresponsible decisions, insomnia, and overall just a high that then leaves me very vulnerable to a depressive episode.”

Harry nodded, “And how do you prevent those?”

“With therapy. And friends. And medication. And overall a lot of training to identify those,” Elías said softly, giving him a smile. “Letting people help me has been the biggest factor in preventing them. Severus is especially good with that.”

Harry wrinkled his nose, “Snape doesn’t look like he would.”

Elías gave a loudly laugh, grinning, “You’d think so, but he’s a surprisingly sensitive man. It’s exactly that sensitivity that makes him such a jerk, yeah?”

“I hate him,” Harry confessed.

“You’re in your right,” Elías replied, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around his knees. “I, fortunately, have the chance to get to know him from a different perspective. And I’m trying to get him to change from… well, what you used to know him as at the beginning of Third Year.”

“…he’s _sort of_ better now,” Harry admitted begrudgingly, scowling, making Elías laugh. “But that’s only because of you!”

“I think it’s because of a lot of things,” Elías chose to say but Harry didn’t believe it. “Look, he’ll be around this summer for a few dinners, for hanging out and the like. But I want you to know that if he ever antagonizes you or makes you feel uncomfortable or angry? Give me the word and he’s out for the rest of the day.”

Harry blinked, “Really?”

“Really,” Elías nodded and Harry let out a little disbelieving laugh.

“ _Really?_ ” he asked again and Elías laughed, ruffling his hair, making Harry grin.

“ _Really_ ,” Elías emphasized, standing, pulling Harry up. “Come on. We should get some shut-eye before we hit the road again. Tomorrow night we’ll sleep in Sevilla and leave early morning to San Fernando.”

“We’re in Spain already, right?” Harry asked, yawning, following Elías into the tent again and sitting on his cot.

“Yeah, we are,” Elías smiled, laying back down, rubbing his face with a happy sigh. “I hope you like Spain, Harry. I hope you enjoy my country and my hometown.”

“I hope so, too,” Harry murmured as he pulled his thin blanket up, curling up in his cot and watching the entrance of the tent with a feeling of calmness after that conversation.

Dawn of the next morning was a bit excruciating, if only because Harry had barely slept a wink. He’d need more time to get used to camping and cots and thin blankets but Elías woke up as if he’d slept in a five star hotel, calling Harry to rise with a cheerful voice. He gave him a thermos full of warm tea, which Harry appreciated as he curled up with a blanket on the front seat of the car, and drank his own coffee as they took off from that special spot in the Pyrenees.

Within an hour, Harry was _boiling_ in his seat and he had taken off the blanket, his hoodie, and even rolled up the cuffs of his jeans as well, looking at Elías and wondering how in the world the man looked absolutely _unbothered._

“It’s so hot,” Harry finally groaned as they stopped for lunch in a highway restaurant, sitting in the shade of the building, inside, a fan whirling above him as strange Spanish music drifted from the radio. Elías came back with a freezing soda for him and a huge sandwich that he devoured in record time. The heat was unbearable but the food? Harry would _never_ complain about it.

“This is nothing, kid,” Elías laughed, drinking his own soda and leaning back on the chair, his forehead shiny with perspiration.

“Is it going to be hotter in San Fernando, then?” Harry asked, trying to adapt to the strange syllables of his new home. He’d have to learn to pronounce it, one way or another, so better to start now, really.

“Very probably, yeah,” Elías raised his eyebrows at him and gave a little grin. “It’s fine. It’ll be _fine_. Remus and I put a cooling enchantment in your room so it’d be a few degrees lower there.”

Harry paused, surprised, “O-oh?”

“Yeah, I figured it’d make you sleep badly, especially in the summer?” Elías rubbed his jaw a bit. “I mean, coming from England and all. So I thought it’d be best to make it more familiar for you.”

Harry felt that spike in his stomach, now familiar, of gratefulness towards Elías. It was such a silly thing, but it showed just how much he cared for Harry’s comfort and what he wanted. Harry touched the perspiration on the soda glass, mumbling, “Thanks. That’s –” he took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Elías replied, giving a small smile and finishing his drink. “Go have a walk to stretch your legs while I go to the bathroom, yeah? We’ll be back on the road in ten.”

“Alright,” Harry nodded, standing from the metal chair and stretching, not planning to leave the shade as Elías disappeared deeper into the restaurant. They were in Salamanca, Elías had told him, before launching into the story of the Student of Salamanca, apparently a very old and famous poem in Spanish literature.

Harry had been half-listening, really, but Elías’ voice wasn’t too deep or too jarring, so he’d been able to relax while paying only a little bit of attention. They were in the middle of nowhere and Harry looked over the impossibly blue sky and arid, yellowed fields. England didn’t have places like this, or at the very least Harry didn’t think they did. It was too dry and too hot, and there were mountains in the distance – that had been the most frequent thing; the _mountains_. Harry hadn’t known there were so many.

He looked through the deep sky, hoping to see Hedwig returning or maybe little Pidwidgeon, but there was nothing. He’d sent her out today early in the morning and it was five in the sweltering afternoon by now, making him sigh. He only wanted to hear from his friends and he promised himself he’d actually call Hermione as soon as she gave him her number. Elías was a little bit right – no need to ignore _some_ muggle things that did make his life easier.

What he did miss, though, was a _cooling charm_. He pulled at the front of his shirt, sighing deeply, wondering if the entire summer would feel like this when he saw something drift in the sky, making him perk up. Flying towards him, white as snow, was Hedwig with various letters in her legs and Harry grinned, waiting for her to descend –

A bird cry echoed through the valley and Harry blinked, surprised to see what looked like an eagle flying right behind Hedwig and his eyes widened, scared for a moment that the massive creature would hurt her. He didn’t even notice the man leaning against the wall, watching as well, arms crossed, he only had eyes for his friend as she basically threw herself into his arms, the boy stumbling back, eagle circling them both.

“Well, well,” Harry heard and he tensed up, turning to the man as the eagle flew to him, perching on his leather-clad arm. “Wasn’t expecting a _guiri_ in the middle of nowhere.”

Thick accent, sun-bleached hair and cold bright eyes, a man in what looked like his mid-forties watched Harry. He wore muggle clothing but Harry clutched at Hedwig, knowing this man was anything but a muggle, wondering where Elías was.

“What are you doing here, Brit?” the man asked curiously.

“None of your business,” Harry replied, eyes narrowed.

“ _Oye_ , that’s rude,” he mumbled, letting his eagle move to his shoulder, feeding it a morsel. “Your bird scared my little _Don Juan_ , yeah? I have never seen a white owl here, you ought to be more careful, _niño_.”

Harry hesitated, “She’s my pet.”

“She’s _obviously_ your pet,” he laughed. He wore a leather jacket and muggle washed jeans, combat boots as well and some band shirt. “Where’s Elías?”

Harry paused, blinking hard as he gently put Hedwig on his shoulder, the bird affectionately nipping at his ear.

“You know him?” Harry asked carefully.

“Yep,” the man popped the p and grinned at him. “Well, mostly? I know his sister.”

“Hey, dipshit, has no one ever told you not to approach kids in a corner?” Harry felt _absolute_ relief as he saw Elías round the corner, punching the man on his shoulder, making the eagle squawk loudly. “Who _are_ you?”

“Hello,” he grinned, devilish and handsome but Elías seemed less than impressed, moving next to Harry and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Ah, so _abuela_ was right. Harry Potter _has_ been adopted by a Spanish.”

“Look, we want no trouble, yeah?” Elías glared, arms crossing. “If you’ve got a problem with the kid, you’ve got a problem with _me_. And I’ll leave you on the ground before you can—”

“I’m Director Juan Miguel Cevedo Valverde,” the man spoke up, looking so very amused and Harry frowned as Elías’ face began to turn a bright red, eyes wide. “So I mean – I don’t have a _problem_ , truly. I was just curious.”

“Oh Gods,” Elías pressed his hands to his face, groaning. “Oh, _Gods_.”

“What’s going on? Who’s he?” Harry asked, eyes moving from his guardian to the man, who was snickering into his hand.

“Harry,” Elías sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose before waving his hand at the man. “This is the Headmaster of Altavista, the school of magic and witchcraft of Spain.”

Harry stared, stunned for a moment, seeing the man wiggle his fingers at him and Harry did _not_ like him. So what if he was Headmaster? His eagle had scared Hedwig and he looked way too nosy. Harry didn’t like him _at all_.

“Alright,” he said dryly and Elías sighed.

“Okay, so – we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot,” he mumbled, moving towards Cevedo with his hand out. “My name is Elías Fernández Suarez.”

“Oh, I know who you are,” he smirked, shaking his hand firmly. “I did send you a letter eleven years ago, after all.”

“And my sister four years prior, yes,” Elías sighed, dropping Cevedo’s hand. “I suppose we’ll be working together soon, if anything.”

“Indeed,” he seemed to be in on a joke that nobody knew and Harry _hated it_. Like he was endlessly amused by Harry and Elías, taking them both for clowns. It made his blood boil. “I do wonder – what brings you two all the way to my _abuela’s_ place?”

“Best highway food in Salamanca,” Elías shrugged and Cevedo laughed. “We’re on our way to Cádiz, so if you’d excuse us – come on, Harry.”

He gently guided the boy back towards the parking lot and Harry eyed the Headmaster of Altavista, frowning, wondering how someone so young was in charge, how someone who wore muggle clothing was in charge of an entire school for an entire country. The eagle on his shoulder looked almost menacing, beak sharp and talons clutching tight at Cevedo’s shoulder.

“Eh, _niño_ ,” Cevedo called as Elías climbed into the car, Harry looking back at him to see Cevedo nodding, smirk gone, face a bit calmer and gentler. “You be careful out there, _si_? Don’t go showing that scar everywhere.”

Harry paused, hand raising to his hair, finding that his forehead was exposed. He’d forgotten that with all the heat and sweat, he’d brushed it aside and it’d dried that way, quickly hiding his scar with a grumble, glaring at Cevedo.

The Headmaster simply gave him a thumbs up and his eagle flew off, crying out, disappearing into the deep blue sky as Harry sat, shut the door of the car and put Hedwig into her open cage, taking the letters.

“Sorry about that,” Elías blew out a breath, pulling out of the parking lot. “I thought a wizarding restaurant would give you a bit of respite. I didn’t know Cevedo was also called Valverde.”

“It’s fine,” Harry told him, eyes on the Headmaster as he walked back into the restaurant, the building disappearing from view soon enough, leaving Harry thoughtful as he cradled the letters from Ron and Hermione in his hands. “Why didn’t you go to Altavista?”

“Hmm?” Elías glanced at him before snorting. “Me? To a Spanish school? _No way_. They would’ve eaten me alive.”

Harry frowned, “What do you mean?”

“We Spaniards have faults,” Elías said, grimacing. “One of them is our lack of empathy and solidarity in teenagers. Spaniards bully a lot, Harry. Less physical, a hell lot more psychological. I didn’t want to go again to a Spanish school. So I chose Hogwarts.”

“You… were bullied at school?” Harry asked quietly, thinking of Dudley and his infernal time at elementary school.

“Yep. That’s why I fight it so hard at Hogwarts,” Elías hummed, starting to play a song. “Like, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure Altavista is a delight and all, and I’m sure Director Cevedo runs an incredible school. I just…” he shrugged. “Very much not for me.”

“Do you not feel Spanish, then?” Harry asked.

“Oh, no, no, I _do_ ,” he nodded. Then paused. Then hissed and said, “Well, I do, just… not as much as I used to, before.”

“Do you feel British?” Harry changed the question.

“Sometimes,” Elías gave in, sighing. “It’s a weird thing, having lived for so long away from Spain. Feeling foreign in my own hometown isn’t a feeling I’m unaccustomed to, is all I’ll say, yeah?”

“How is Altavista?” Harry could tell his previous interrogation had made him uncomfortable, so he changed the subject. “I know nothing about it.”

“I’ve been there only once, actually,” Elías explained, perking up. “And it was to do a bunch of paperwork regarding my education at Hogwarts and my college application. The palace is _amazing_ , but then again, it’s a copy of La Alhambra, so –”

“What’s that?” Harry searched his pockets for a treat, seeing Hedwig being restless and he leaned into the backseat to feed her two, because she also had a very long trip.

“Islamic palace in Granada, in the south,” Elías explained and Harry nodded as he sat back in place. “It’s a gorgeous piece of history. It was a Roman fortress before the emirate leader at the time constructed over it a palace. When the retaking of Andalucia happened, the Catholic Monarchs turned it into a – a _Corte_ , I don’t know the word in English,” he chuckled, glancing over at Harry. “We can go someday. It’s very beautiful.”

“Altavista or Granada?” Harry smiled.

“Any or both,” Elías promised and the thought of seeing another magical school actually excited Harry, thinking of how much Hermione and Ron would want to go.

“So your sister went to Altavista, then?” Harry asked.

“No, she went to Beauxbatons,” Elías replied, shaking his head. “But she’s worked very closely with Altavista. She was two times national Spanish champion of Fencing Duel, actually. People in Altavista know her well.”

“Wow,” Harry’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, she’s _very_ competent,” Elías laughed. “You’ll see when you meet her. I’m pretty sure she would’ve been a Slytherin, too, if she’d gone with me to Hogwarts. Or maybe a Ravenclaw.”

“You don’t talk much about her,” Harry pointed out.

“Well, I haven’t talked much about my family,” Elías replied softly. “I don’t want to overwhelm you. And I know that if I started talking about them, I’d never stop.”

“You seem really close,” Harry murmured, thumb brushing over the prim and proper wax seal Hermione had put on her letter, an intricate H over it.

“We are,” Elías confessed, giving him a little smile. “Very close, in fact. My cousin Jaime is like a brother to me, and all. And I’ve got tons of little cousins that I have been taking care of for a long time. I’ve got a cousin more or less your age, actually. Her name is Alejandra and she speaks fairly well English, mostly French, though.”

“She’s the one that lives in Brussels, right?”

“Yep, that’s her.”

“Hm,” was all Harry said, not wanting to think much about the massive family Elías seemed to have. He knew it wasn’t something that could be helped, that it wasn’t Elías’ fault that he had a lot of family and Harry had basically none. Hermione was that way, too, with both her parents having no siblings. But still, it… made him a bit jealous.

“You don’t need to meet them all at once, yeah?” Elías reminded him and Harry glanced at the professor, not correcting him on his assumption. “We’ll go at your pace.”

“Thank you, Elías,” Harry said before finally opening his letters, wanting the conversation about family to be over.

Hermione and Ron didn’t have much to say about themselves but plenty about Harry’s little roadtrip adventure with Elías. Hermione, as always, urged him to take in the sights and tell her all about it when they saw each other again, telling him whatever she knew about Spain in an almost two-page perfectly put essay, which Harry skimmed over quickly before getting to her personal letter again. She wished him luck with the heat and the settling, hoped the house was nice and hoped Harry was having fun.

Ron’s shorter letter, on the other hand, told him about how Charlie had worked some time ago in the north of Madrid with dragons, and how busy he was going to be this summer, unfortunately. The Quidditch Cup was also starting soon and Ron reminded him of the tickets his father had been able to get for all of them, making Harry grin, leaning against the door as the day began to turn into night. Ron promised him all sorts of fun things when the three of them reunited again, and told him that his mother had already done the floo set-up to connect their chimneys together. Hopefully, Hermione would be able to, as well.

It made him fall asleep to the sound of some song Elías was playing, his eyes closing and his hands clutching the letters tightly as his glasses went askew on his face. Harry slept for a few hours, letting the road pass by him, and Elías gently took off his glasses and set them carefully away, making sure they were safe.

It was only when they finally arrived at Sevilla that Elías shook his shoulder, startling Harry awake, the boy seeing blurry as he blinked rapidly.

“Come on, kiddo,” Elías murmured, handing him his glasses, Harry thanking him quietly. “Booked us a room in a nice bed and breakfast, yeah? Let’s find somewhere to eat and then we can go to sleep.”

“I’m really tired,” Harry confessed quietly, swallowing as he looked at his guardian. “Can – could we just get some quick pizza?”

“You want some pizza in the room?” Elías gave a small smile and ruffled his hair. “You got it, kid. Come on. Up you go – can you give me Hedwig? I’ve got to throw a little anti-muggle charm before anyone sees her, pets aren’t allowed.”

“Yes, you can grab her,” Harry yawned, walking out of the car and when he looked outside, he was stunned for a moment.

The square they were standing by was lit up in thousands of colored lights, music drifting to him, the mosaics of the bridges over a circular line of a pond making him question if they were truly in Spain or something much, much further East in Europe. He laughed for a moment, stepping back as two kids rushed by in roller skates, and he found Elías smiling at him, Hedwig’s cage with a light shine on it and a small bag over his shoulder.

“Let’s go?” he encouraged.

“It’s really beautiful,” Harry dared to say, following Elías away from the square, looking back at it with awed eyes. Palm trees lined the streets, thick and imposing, and most houses were either a clay color filled with mosaics at the door or pure white. Even on the floor there were cracked, bright tiles and Harry stepped over them slowly, blinking. “I… didn’t think it’d look like this.”

“Most don’t,” Elías chuckled, walking confidently, surely knowing his way around this city. “This is Sevilla, Harry. That over there was La Plaza de España. Pretty, yeah?”

“Why does this look so different from like, the Pyrenees and Burgos and all those?” Harry asked curiously, so shocked by the contrast.

“Mmm, well, it’s a bunch of history stuff,” Elías told him. “Back in medieval times, this wasn’t Spain – Spain didn’t _exist_ , really, it was Castilla. But here there was a caliphate, and this was named Al-Andalus. It was under Muslim rule for a long, long, _long_ time. My grandmother was born in Tetuán and all, and she’s very much Spanish, still.”

“I didn’t know,” Harry glanced at all the different, short buildings, at the succulents and other arid plants growing there. “Are there a lot of muslim people here, then?”

“Mhmm! And everywhere in Spain, too!” Elías nodded, smiling brightly. “Our strength lies in the variety of cultures, you know? Fenicians, Cataginenses, Celts, Arabs, Romans… we’ve got it all, really.”

“That’s cool,” Harry said.

“Slytherin was from here,” Elías said and Harry froze, eyes bulging.

“Slytherin was Spanish?!” he gasped and Elías laughed, nodding. “But – but Slytherin isn’t a Spanish name!”

“No, most believe he took his last name, Salazar, and set it as his first name,” Elías told him, amused, giving him a grin over his shoulder. “But Slytherin and I share the same hometown, Harry. It’s very much a muggle city now, though, just letting you know.”

“I didn’t know that,” Harry repeated, wondering why it was night and it was still so hot, hands running over the back of his sweaty neck. “What about Gryffindor?”

“Oh, I believe he was purely Scottish,” Elías hummed. “But I’m pretty sure Hufflepuff was from Wales? And Ravenclaw was Irish, I think?”

“So why did Slytherin make a school in England, then?” Harry frowned. “If he was Spanish, shouldn’t he have made Altavista?”

“Altavista was made before Hogwarts,” Elías replied, then shrugged. “And I don’t know why. It’s most likely that he fled the country when the taking of Al-Andalus happened. Maybe he was muslim and he feared repercussions from Isabel La Católica, the Queen.”

“A muslim wizard?” Harry asked, confused.

“England may have separated religion from wizards, but the rest of the world hasn’t, Harry,” Elías pointed out and Harry nodded, realizing that he knew very little about other wizarding cultures. “In Spain, in fact, it’s… a bit of a problem.”

“Didn’t the Spanish Inquisition burn a lot of witches?” Harry questioned.

“Not that many, actually, Germany’s burning was… far more egregious but – yeah, they did. And as you’ve probably studied, they were aided by other muggles that knew wizards and witches deeply, enough to lure them into traps and be able to actually burn them. It’s a turbulent story within Spain’s history and the main reason that the Statute of Secrecy was made. But… well, now that world leaders know how the existence of magic, so does the Church. And… and the Church is kind of very involved with Altavista.”

“That blows,” Harry offered quietly.

“It does,” Elías sighed. “Especially when you’re not religious – it’s a big mess.”

“Wait, so if you want to go to Altavista, you’ve to be Catholic?” Harry asked, eyes wide.

“Not _anymore_ ,” Elías specified. “Not since uh, I think ‘75? When the Dictatorship was finally gone.”

“Spain had a _dictatorship_?” Harry blurted out and Elías gave him an amused look.

“You know, I’m starting to think we’re getting nowhere with this conversation,” he laughed, patting his shoulder. “It’s alright. You’re British, of course you wouldn’t know Spain’s history. It’s fine, Harry – all you gotta know is that we’re in a previously-caliphate occupied city and that’s why it’s so beautiful.”

“Alright,” Harry shrugged, yawning. “Are we close?”

“Just turning that corner,” Elías assured, rubbing his back. “And then tomorrow morning we leave early and we’ll be there by sunrise, yeah?”

“We’ve to go get my furniture, right?” Harry groaned a bit.

“Yes, but at the very least I already ordered you a bed,” Elías told him, patting his shoulder, wrapping an arm around them as they turned the corner and Elías walked into a building, the sound of a guitar and people drinking and laughing startling Harry. He looked over to a lounging area with a few Arab-style fountains and saw them sitting on chairs and playing instruments, singing in Spanish.

“They’re loud,” Harry remarked, not unkindly, and Elías laughed.

“They’ve playing Kiko Veneno, I would be as well,” he grinned wide before moving to the front desk, where an older, plump woman with greying hair and smiling wrinkles greeted Elías in Spanish. “ _¡Hola!_ _Tenía una habitación reservada para esta noche? Dos camas, llamé desde Bruselas hace dos días. Soy Elías Ferández Oviedo._ ”

“ _¡Ah, si, si! Fernández, ¿verdad? Si, aquí tienes_ , _la número doce – es la que está justo a la derecha de esas escaleras,_ ” the woman smiled and gave him a key, old and a bit rusty and Elías thanked her before nudging Harry.

“Let’s go?” he called and Harry gave one last look at the lounge before following Elías up some stairs, seeing just how old this place was. Looked almost medieval and he touched the walls, fascinated by their solidness, the prim white of them. He’d never seen a building so utterly _white_. “Alright, so I’ll probably go grab some pizza while you shower and get comfortable. What’s your favorite?”

“Oh, um, any is fine,” Harry replied as they entered the room with a twelve on it, seeing a very comfortable and modern place, so very jarring compared to the rest of the bed and breakfast. He slowly sat on one of the beds, finding it soft and comfy and before he knew it, he dropped on his back and sighed with happiness. “This is nice!”

“Mhmm, best one in Sevilla,” Elías grinned, putting Hedwig on a chair and dropping the bag on the other bed. He opened the windows, letting the slight breeze in and Harry thought for sure that this was heaven for a moment, looking out at the beautiful city from the second-story window, with the tall Arab peaks at the distance. “Also – you sure any is fine?”

“Yes,” Harry assured, sitting up.

“I put anchovies in mine,” Elías cocked an eyebrow and Harry let out a sound of disgust, eyes wide.

“You put _what_?!” he gasped, making Elías laugh. “That’s – that’s disgusting!”

“So they say. I say it’s an improvement,” Elías snickered, running a hand through his hair as he loosened it up, sighing. He looked tired, too. “I’ll grab us a classic pepperoni. Is that good?”

“That’s much better than anchovies,” Harry laughed and Elías gave him a hard shove against the bed, making Harry drop on it, giggling.

“Take a shower, kid,” Elías pointed a finger at him, lopsided smile on his lips. “Put on your pajamas and I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry nodded, watching him leave before he went back to staring at the ceiling for a second, then quickly getting up and moving into the bathroom. This one was modern as well, without the pretty tiles and the old feeling of the hotel. Harry was a bit bummed and he suddenly questioned if Elías’ house was old as well, and Arab, and pretty and white. He wished it was.

He showered like he always did – utilitarian, quick and efficient, but he almost wished he could linger under the cold spray of water, which cooled off his body temperature and got rid of all his sweat and grime from the road. Harry felt like a whole new person by the time he dropped back on the bed he’s claimed, laying on his side, watching the window and feeling the perfect breeze dry his curls.

Harry realized right then just how… _fake_ this all felt. In a foreign country, with one of the only adults in his life who gave a damn, going out after a long drive to get _him_ pizza because Harry had said he was too tired. His eyes burned a little and he rolled on his back, swallowing once, twice, three times but the knot in his throat stayed, knees jerking a bit. This couldn’t be real, he knew. At any point now, Fudge would stroll in and tell him there’d been a mistake and the Dursley’s would take him back now, to his little alcove under the stairs. To being ignored and yelled at and used as a servant for their every need. To Dudley’s constant bullying and Petunia’s sneering and – and he couldn’t bear it, if it happened.

Because he _liked_ this.

He liked Elías, he thought the professor was funny and nice and a little loud but in a good way. Harry had enjoyed the car trip – the camping side, watching the stars in Brussels, Juan and Lourdes buying him chocolates that they themselves enjoyed, the mornings that begun with Juan and Elías playing guitar together and singing, the stories Elías told him of places on the road, how much he seemed to know Sirius and Professor Lupin and how much he _cared_ for them and his friends and even his new Slytherin friends.

Harry threw his hands over his eyes, begging to whichever existing higher powers to please, _please_ , let him have this one. Just this one, just once.

He cried for a little while – just a little, nothing like the first days in Brussels, at night, expecting authorities to tear down the door at any moment. Harry cried and by the time he stopped, he felt a little better, breathing in slowly, the way Professor Lupin and Elías had taught him, and then breathing out.

Harry suddenly wished Professor Lupin was here was well, a pang of worry hitting him as he looked over at the moon, finding it crescent with a small relieved sigh. Lately he’d found himself looking more often at it, thinking of his Defense professor and how he was always so cheerful, so nice, and still had a curse in him. It’d explained his scars, of course, but… to think that Harry’s father and Sirius had done the impossible and became animagi just to help their friend…

“Pizza is here!” Elías announced, the door opening and Harry sat up, smelling grease and bread and pepperoni and cheese and all the beautiful things that pizza was, smiling widely at the professor. “Here you go, Harry!”

“Thank you,” Harry gratefully moved towards the small table by the little balcony, sitting down as Elías indicated, the professor starting to take off his jewelry while Harry grabbed a hot slice. “Elías?”

“Hmm?” the Slytherin asked distractedly, taking off his barrage of earrings. Harry didn’t get how he could wear so many.

“Are you and Professor Lupin together?” he asked directly, no preamble, because he was tired of hearing _it’s not like that_ yet seeing them kissing or hugging or in the same room together before they _went to rest a little_. It was pretty obvious to Harry.

But Elías froze, instead, seemingly taken off guard completely. Harry had secretly hoped that he would, and maybe he’d catch the truth but Elías seemed to deflate and sigh deeply, putting his earrings over the nightstand and turning to Harry, seemingly serious and Harry immediately regretted asking.

“Harry, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t ask that anymore,” Elías told him, not scolding him but _asking_ him, which only made Harry feel worse.

“M’sorry,” Harry mumbled, quickly looking at the pizza instead of the professor. “I just – you two – I –” he swallowed, shrugging. “I like Professor Lupin.”

“I know you do,” Elías told him gently, sitting on the opposite chair, chewing on his lower lip. “Look, there was a mistake, yeah? What you saw that morning…” he clicked his tongue, wincing. “I made a mistake. I thought it was something and it wasn’t, is all, yeah? Remus and I are _just_ friends and it’s going to stay that way.”

Harry frowned, watching Elías’ face, realization dawning on him. It wasn’t that Elías didn’t like Professor Lupin – it was that Professor Lupin didn’t _like_ Elías. He felt like an idiot, asking him after he’d apparently been rejected and quickly, he said, “I’m sorry, I won’t ask anymore.”

“Thanks, kiddo,” Elías gave him a little tired smile. “I promise we’re both good, yeah? You’ll see Remus plenty this summer, I pro –”

“What about Snape?” Harry suddenly blurted out, thinking of Theodore’s and Pansy’s insistence and, immediately, he saw Elías’ face turn a bright shade of red.

No. _No way_.

“Oh my God!” Harry jumped out of his seat, hands in his hair. “Pansy and Theo were right! It _is_ Snape!”

“Shhh, _shhh!_ ” Elías told him, standing to grab Harry’s hands, eyes wide. “Harry – Harry, _no_ , it’s not – you just took me by surprise! That’s all! I don’t – I don’t _fancy_ him!” he stuttered but Harry had caught him, hands over his mouth.

“But he’s a _git_ ,” he breathed, disbelieving. “ _You_ are so nice, how can you like him?!”

“I don’t!” Elías defended, hands flopping at his sides, cheeks bright. “And – and you _know_ , he acts differently when he’s just with me! Like, I – I _know_ that’s not good but he’s trying and _changing_ , Harry, he’s _genuinely trying_ , alright?”

Harry frowned, hating that Theo and Pansy _were_ right, grumbling a bit. He couldn’t believe Elías liked ugly, grumpy, greasy Snape. He would’ve thought the professor would be into Lupin and _that’s it_ , not Snape! Snape couldn’t be right! Harry chewed on his pizza as they both sat back down, Elías’ face in his hands and he wished he could tell Ron and Hermione just how much adults didn’t make sense.

“I don’t like him,” Harry stated.

“I know you don’t,” Elías groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Gods, at least you don’t antagonize him like Sirius does.”

“Sirius is right, though, he’s a proper git and I hate him,” Harry said angrily.

“You’ve reasons to, I won’t lie,” Elías mumbled, grabbing a slice for himself, watching the kid with a wince. “I just… he’s got _walls_ , you know? And layers.”

“Then maybe _he_ should go to therapy,” Harry mumbled and Elías gave a small laugh.

“You’re not wrong there,” he picked at a slice of pepperoni, giving Harry a small smile. “Look, I… it doesn’t matter how good of a friend he is to me. I already told you; if he steps over the line, he’s _out_ , yeah? Just – just let me know when he does.”

“I will,” Harry said, nodding, again feeling grateful, especially knowing now that Elías _fancied_ Snape. God, the mere thought of it made Harry near gag. He wondered if Sirius knew, because Sirius had seemed to hate Snape just as much as Harry himself. He wouldn’t tell the man, though – Harry didn’t go about telling secrets to everyone.

“Finish your dinner, come on,” Elías gently kicked him under the table. “We should get to bed early, since we’re leaving before dawn. That way we can have the entire day for you to adjust to San Fernando. And you’ll see Hermione and Ron, too!” he smiled.

Harry felt relief and happiness flood him at that, grinning at Elías, “Yes! Tomorrow!”

“Tomorrow,” Elías promised.

The two swept over the box of pizza and soon enough, it was put aside to take to the trash tomorrow and they were cleaning their hands, bidding each other goodnight. While Elías took a shower, Harry slipped into bed, not bothering with pulling blankets over him, feeling so strange that he didn’t want them. The heat was starting to turn from something purely uncomfortable to something _actually_ comforting. He saw the moon bright in the sky and heard the distant music below, on the lounge still. And before he knew it, he’d closed his eyes and fallen asleep easily.

Harry woke up the next morning groggy, tired, sweaty and just wanting to go back to bed but he knew the two had to leave. The two of them took a quick shower, which actually didn’t help Harry wake up at all, and grabbed some breakfast before they got into the car. Harry, thoroughly exhausted after eating a still-warm croissant and some milk chocolate from a little carton with a straw, curled up against the door and pulled his feet up onto the wide seat, getting comfortable, falling asleep once more.

The next time he woke up, it was to the sun and the sound of seagulls.

Harry blinked, confused for a moment as the wind blew against his hair, blinking hard before he realized that Elías had rolled down his window. From Harry’s lower position, he couldn’t see the sea but… but he could _smell it_.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Elías smiled, eyes looking so _blue_ as the sunlight of dawn hit them. Harry yawned, stretching in his seat, righting his glasses before he sat up, looking out his own window and seeing – buildings. Normal, modern-looking buildings. They were in a _city_ and he was confused. “We’re in Cádiz now, kiddo. Just need to cross the bridge to San Fernando.”

“I – I can smell the sea,” Harry rasped, lowering the window himself, feeling his heart leaping for some reason. Juan and Elías and Lourdes had been speaking about it for so long that he was a bit afraid it’d be disappointing.

“Of course you can! We’re right by it!” Elías said cheerfully, grinning widely.

“I think I can hear it,” Harry murmured, listening in but all he heard was Spanish and music and cars honking.

“Don’t worry,” Elías told him, car moving as the stoplight turned green, moving forward while most cars turned left, orange washing over everything and Harry looked at the pink and purple hues of the sky before Elías told him. “You know why I wanted to bring you by car?”

“To clear my head?” Harry tried and Elías nodded before pressing a button on the console, making Harry jump as the roof of the car began to move. “It –”

“I knew I had to take this car,” Elías said, hand patting Harry’s shoulder. “Go for it, kid. I got you.”

Harry breathed in sharply, looking up at the clear morning sky and, for a moment he hesitated. What if it wasn’t what he expected? What if he didn’t like it? What if this was still all for nothing, all fake, all blown away in a second?

The wind blew his hair, the sound of the sea suddenly deafening and Harry shakily took off his seatbelt, grasped the top of the windshield and stood, clutching it tightly, eyes wide behind his glasses. And when they broke out into the highway, into the long bridge, Harry looked to the right and felt his throat clog up.

Because there, in the horizon, Harry saw the perfect sunrise.

He felt the breath being punched out of him, a wheeze slipping out and he gripping the windshield tighter, the car speeding through the deserted highway. Harry looked over the glittering ocean, waves crashing in white over the pale shore and as he inhaled deeply, he let out a disbelieving breath. The worry he’d felt all these months left, like an anvil falling from his shoulders and Harry felt his eyes water, staring at the horizon, starting to sob.

“YOU’RE FREE, KID!” he heard Elías shout over the roar of the waves and the wind and Harry looked over at him for a second, then at the long road, remember that glorious day on the back of Buckbeak, feeling exactly like right now.

There was no trick.

There was no British, uptight politician to take him away.

There were no Dursley’s, no Fudge’s, no one who would rip him away from this.

And he spread his arms, letting go of the windshield to scream out with joy, Elías laughing on his left as Harry savored for the first time what it was like to never have to time his happiness before the next bad thing. He let himself cry and whoop and cheer as loud as he humanly could, open arms into the New World, full of every little thing he’d always thought would be taken from him.


	3. The New Normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! Another chapter full of... Harry and Remus and Ikea, I guess. Chapter not sponsored by Ikea, unfortunately :(
> 
> Songs in this Chapter:  
> \- Supernatural by Turnover  
> \- Lyin' Eyes by the Eagles
> 
> Trigger Warnings in this Chapter:  
> \- Mild mention of bullying  
> \- Mention of chronic pain  
> \- Mention of Dorcas' death, just death in the old war

“Well,” Elías began as he closed the front door, leaving the keys on the hanger against the white wall, slowly pulling Harry’s trunk behind him. “I know it’s uh, not what you’re used to. But it’s home, yeah?”

Elías looked nervously at Harry, wondering what he thought of his mismatching furniture, his myriad of instruments in the corner and the way-too-many picture frames around the living room and dining room. But Harry was grinning, looking around with eyes still a little red and his hair a mess of curls from the wind. He’d been smiling the entire car ride from the bridge to El Rompido.

“I love it,” Harry breathed and Elías let out a happy wheeze, swallowing quick and clearing his throat.

“Ah, perfect, then!” Elías clapped his hands once, quickly putting Hedwig over the coffee table and opening her cage but she was asleep and gave Elías the stink-eye, quickly closing the cage with her beak. “Fine, then, have it your way,” he mumbled.

“So we’re just… in front of the beach?” Harry asked, moving to the windows by the TV, looking out with wide green eyes. “Can – can we just go there?”

“Mhmm,” Elías nodded, beaming at the boy. “I made sure your room has the windows facing to it.”

“ _Whoa_ ,” Harry breathed, shocked with a little smile on his lips. “So – so if I wanted to just walk around the beach, could I?”

“Yep,” Elías nodded, arms crossing. “Providing, of course, that you don’t go into the water _at night_. Currents can be strong, there’s not much light and jellyfish season can be _brutal_. You don’t want to accidentally catch a Carabela Portuguesa. Those hurt _much more_ than you’d think.”

“I’ve never seen jellyfish,” Harry told him, eyes still exploring the space before they landed on the piano and multiple guitars, his base, the little violin on the side. “You’ve got a _lot_ of these. Theo said you play a lot, is that true?”

“Mhmm,” Elías walked over, patting his keyboard, smiling at Harry. “I play music to unwind, when I’m happy or sad, for fun, you know – anytime. Is that going to bother you?”

“If you don’t play early, then no, it won’t bother me,” Harry said sheepishly and Elías laughed, ruffling his hair.

“Alright then, want to get a tour of the house?” he asked and Harry nodded eagerly, following Elías. “Well, as you can see, this is the living room? You can eat here, like, we’ve the TV here for a reason but if it’s soup or something that really stains, I’d prefer if it was on the dining table or the counter or the garden, yeah?”

“Alright,” Harry nodded, looking like he was keeping a mental tab.

“This is the dining table. And this table –” Elías slapped the marred wood, laughing. “Has been through _so_ much, Harry, you’ve no idea. As long as you don’t break it, you can bring friends over to eat, alright? I don’t want no crazy Gryffindors jumping on it.”

“I wouldn’t,” Harry assured him, then paused. “ _I_ wouldn’t,” he emphasized.

“Exactly,” Elías flicked some hair out of his face and chuckled before knocking on the stone of the chimney. “Don’t obstruct this – more and more people are starting to walk in like _Pedro por su casa_ , so you better heed the advice my ma never takes and leave this _unoccupied_.”

“Got it,” Harry looked over it, and at the frames and multiple plants stewn around the house, humming, “You like cacti,” he pointed out.

“It’s the only plant I can keep alive. And _barely_ ,” Elías snorted, making Harry laugh. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it off, Severus and Pomona are _so_ over it.”

“Did you have a hard time with Herbology?” Harry asked, curious.

“I didn’t? Not really?” Elías replied, pausing. “It’s – it’s the keeping things alive that’s a problem. I can _grow_ them just _fine_. But making them stay green? Nope!”

“Neville is really good at it,” Harry pointed out and Elías gave him a smile, nodding.

“I know! He’s brilliant, that boy,” Elías said before pointing at the kitchen. “Normal kitchen rules apply here – if someone cooks, the other cleans up. We go once a week grocery shopping and you can pick a weekly little treat for yourself. I expect you to clean up if you make yourself a snack and if you load the dishwasher, I’ll empty it out. Deal?”

“Deal,” Harry smiled, looking down at his feet for a moment before asking, “Will… will you be cooking like in Brussels?”

“Oh yeah,” Elías felt a grin take over his mouth, arms crossing. “You’ve _no idea_ how excited I am to finally share home with someone, Harry. You get to try all the new things I make!”

Harry blinked, “You’re a good cook, though, right?”

“I’m a decent enough cook. But I’m a great baker,” Elías leaned against the kitchen counter, laughing as Harry let out a breath of relief. “Don’t worry. Can’t be worse than the sh – the _stuff_ they serve at Hogwarts.”

“That stuff is good, though!” Harry defended and Elías groaned.

“No, it isn’t! A single week here will have you changing your mind, you’ll see!” Elías walked towards the backdoor, opening it and stepping out onto the garden. “You can hang out here whenever, use the poor whenever, but do mind the chlorine, yeah? And my _succulents_ , I planted those and they’re _thriving_ ,” he pointed at his bed of Echevaria’s, then waved in the general direction of the pool. “Bring your friends and have fun here, but do clean the pool when you guys are done – no plastic and stuff floating around, alright?”

“Alright,” Harry smiled, looking in as he stood by the edge, looking fascinated. “There’s more of those tiles! It looks _so_ colorful!”

“You’re in the deep south,” Elías chuckled, nodding. “You’ll see those a lot. Alright, come on, let’s go see the inside.”

The rest of the house tour was pretty much the same – showing Harry the space, telling him the rules and then telling him what he could do to have fun there. They went into the living space and Elías showed him his room, told him to please not go there as it was his space, and then told him that if Harry was having a bad night, he could knock on his door anytime. It wasn’t an explicit, _you can sleep close to me if you’ve nightmares_ , but it was clear enough that Harry seemed to get it, looking mildly embarrassed. Any fourteen year old boy would be, though, so Elías didn’t press it.

Next was his office, which he paused before entering, giving Harry a warning look.

“Now, first off, let me make something clear,” he began, making Harry watch him with wide green eyes. “This office is _off limits_ to you and your friends. You may come in if I’m inside, _only_ if I’m inside, alright? I’ve got magic books here and other artifacts whose functions are very finicky and strange. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

 _Or find all the Dark Arts books, either_ , he added in his head.

“Am I understood?” he asked, serious, and Harry nodded rapidly. “Good.”

Opening the door, Elías stepped in between two shelves. He hadn’t liked it, at first, how tight it was but it really was the only way to get more space for his books. Harry looked fascinated at the rows, eyes wide, hands in the pockets of his jeans as Elías finally stood in the middle of the office, hands on his hips.

There was only one window in this room and it was covered by thick curtains. His desk was the one he’d gotten so long ago from his father, as a gift, and it was filled with his notes on Cassandra’s book. A few cauldrons were piled beside it, one of the shelves simply for potion ingredients and the like. Rows upon rows of books lined the walls and various astronomical instruments stood on the corners, along with his mandolin on the wall, chipped and very much broken but… well, Elías had wanted to keep it.

“Wow,” Harry breathed, looking around. “I… are you here a lot?”

“Not that much, mainly when I get overwhelmed,” Elías replied, rubbing his neck, looking around the place. “I store all my books and notes here. I try to keep it tidy and all. Mostly, you’ll see me on the living room if I’m with an intense book, so don’t sweat it.”

“This looks a bit like the Hogwarts library,” Harry said, looking over the design on the walls and Elías gave a small smile.

“It’s on purpose,” he murmured. “That library was my refuge for a long time.”

“So you’re like Hermione?” Harry smiled and Elías laughed, ruffling his hair.

“More or less, kid,” he replied and Harry looked around before moving behind one of the shelves, making a surprised noise. “Ah, you found –”

“There are _so many_!” he gasped, eyes wide at the insane amount of cassettes lining up three entire shelves. Elías nodded, arms crossed, looking over the titles.

“I told you I uh, I’m a seer – it entails hearing songs that are not out yet, or are _very_ difficult to find,” Elías hummed, eyebrows raising. “I record them. So I can listen to them whenever, you know? This was before I could do the whole – whole playing with my magic and stuff. But I still record a lot, y’know, it’s a habit. Helps me relax.”

Harry approached the cassettes, looking over the sharpie-written backs of it and Elías hummed a bit, glad that the private cassettes he made weren’t just on the shelf but on a drawer in his desk.

“What do these titles mean?” Harry asked curiously.

“I dunno,” Elías shrugged, smiling a bit. “It’s just – I put songs together in the same cassette but they’ve to go well together, yeah? So really, they’re… mixtapes, if anything.”

“Titles are so strange,” Harry pointed out, head moving to be able to read one. “ _It’s 3am and It’s Raining For Once_. What kind of music is this?”

“The one for when it’s raining at 3am,” Elías replied, amused, nudging him. “Come on, let’s show you your room, yeah?”

“Alright,” Harry murmured, giving the cassettes one last glance before following Elías out. Elías didn’t lock the door, very evidently, and he hoped that it’d show Harry that he had trust in the boy and he hoped Harry would be honest with him.

Finally, Elías walked over to his door, opening it with a smile, and he stepped in and aside, letting Harry through. The boy shyly walked in, pushing his glasses up his nose, eyes immediately moving to the window. He breathed out heavily, looking surprised, then he glanced at the walls and let out a noise of happiness, face growing brighter, making Elías smile softly.

“They’re… Gryffindor red,” he whispered.

“Thought you’d like them,” Elías murmured, heart warm at his delight, watching Harry move over to the bed Elías had ordered and set up, touching the mattress and comforter, the little knitted mustard blanket at the foot of the bed. “That color is horrible, but my grandmother want you to have it.”

Harry laughed wetly, hand moving to rub at his eyes, “It’s horrible.”

Elías chuckled, walking over, giving him a soft smile as Harry touched the blanket again, running his fingers through it, sniffling.

“I love it,” Harry turned to Elías, smile bright and eyes a bit red and Elías stepped closer to hug the boy, noticing that Harry was shaking when the boy quickly gripped Elías’ back tight. “I-I love it.”

“Good,” Elías muttered, pulling back gently, hands on his shoulders as Harry cried quietly. “Look at me – Harry, _sol_ , look at me?”

Harry did, hiccupping, hand rubbing at his runny nose, “Y-yes?”

“This is your bedroom,” Elías told him firmly. “ _Your_ bedroom. This is your domain and your safe space. Before I come in, I will knock and ask you if I can. I will not be touching anything if you don’t want me to. You can decorate it however you want, have as many books and brooms and things as you like. You wanna put banners, change the color of the walls, hang stupid lights up in here? _Go for it_. All I ask,” he laughed a bit, shaking his head, giving him a small smile. “Is that you keep it _somewhat_ clean, alright?”

Harry sobbed, nodding quickly, “I will – I will!”

“Good, good,” Elías gently brushed a few tears away from his dark face, thumbs soft on his feverish skin. “This is your space. _Your_ space.”

“My space,” Harry repeated, amazement in his voice. “ _My space_.”

“Exactly,” Elías’ hands slipped from his shoulders. “The bed has another one underneath – look,” he moved to pull up the edge of the covers, moving the sliding frame out and Harry’s eyes widened. “See? So whenever Ron or Hermione or whomever comes over, you can sleep next to them, yeah?”

“That’s – thank you,” Harry laughed, sitting down on the edge of his bed as Elías pushed the other one back in, setting the covers right. “You’ve uh, really thought of this?”

“Ma had one like this when I was a kid,” Elías explained, grinning. “I had lots of friends over, when I used to be your age. I thought it’s only fair that you get to, as well.”

Harry simply nodded, still touching the soft throw blanket.

“Are you hungry?” Elías asked him and Harry looked up, smiling.

“Starving,” he confessed.

“Then come on,” Elías walked over to the door, opening it with a smile. “Let’s start cooking lunch and in no time Ron and Hermione will be here. We can also get a nice, big cage for Hedwig as well, yeah?”

“Could we?” Harry stumbled out of his room after Elías, delighted.

“Yeah! That cage is for traveling, poor thing,” Elías sighed, shaking his head before glancing over at Harry. “Do you like animals, Harry?”

“Yeah, some,” Harry shrugged. “I like Hedwig. And now I like Crookshanks.”

“Crookshanks is a good boy,” Elías said, grinning. “I’m asking in case you want another? Because we do have the space and I don’t mind at all having another. In fact, you’d give me the perfect excuse.”

“Another?” Harry blinked as they reached the kitchen, Elías looking through the pantry and fridge in search of something to make. “Just like that?”

“Sure!” Elías began to pull out from the freezer a box of chicken thighs, already thinking of some tikka masala, since they had the rice and everything else they’d need, setting everything on the counter as Harry sat on the stool, watching him with fascination.

“What… what kind of animal would we get?” Harry was baffled. “A dog?”

“No,” Elías pointed at Harry, firm. “Sirius would get jealous.”

Harry burst out laughing and Elías set his wand aside after starting to play some Eagles, _Lyin’ Eyes_ ringing through the house softly.

“Would he?” Harry grinned.

“Wanna bet?” Elías cocked an eyebrow. “No, no. No dogs.”

“Cat?” Harry paused. “…but I don’t really like cats that much.”

“Cats are great,” Elías told him, smiling lopsided. “But if you don’t want one, that’s valid.”

“I’ve just never thought of it. I’ve got Hedwig, you know?” Harry looked wide-eyed at the window, thoughtful.

“You don’t _need_ another pet, I’m not saying that,” Elías said, chuckling. “But if you do like a certain animal, you can tell me, yeah?”

Harry didn’t say anything for a while and Elías took it as the conversation being over. He sang along with the music, opening the window to ventilate the kitchen, waving his wand at the backdoor and opening it as well. The place slowly filled with the smell of Indian spices and it was when Elías was preparing the rice that Harry finally spoke – quiet, meek, almost like he was whispering a secret.

“I like snakes.”

Elías paused, blinking hard before turning to look at Harry, surprised, “You do?”

Harry nervously nodded, glancing away, “I-I know it’s weird –”

“Not at all! They’re great!” Elías told him, enthusiastic, and Harry’s relieved greens found Elías’ blues. “Snakes are extremely beautiful animals, Harry, you’re _not_ a weird boy for liking reptiles. I love them very much, yeah?” he raised his arm, showing off the snake tattooed there and Harry blew out a breath.

“Yeah, but – but not every boy can speak _parseltongue_ ,” he stressed.

“You – holy _cow_ , can you _speak_ parseltongue?!” Elías asked, heart jumping, and Harry nodded miserable. “That’s… that’s how you _got_ into the Chamber of the Secrets, then? Speaking parseltongue?”

“How else?” Harry said bitterly, glaring at the counter. “The Heir of Slytherin –”

“Oh, that’s _bullshit_ ,” Elías rolled his eyes. “There’s no evidence that Slytherin had descendants. In fact, I’m _pretty_ sure he was gay.”

Harry spluttered, looking up at Elías, “W-what?”

“Have you never heard the story of the Lake House?” Elías asked, surprised, smiling softly. “It’s on _Hogwarts, A History_.”

“I’ve never read it,” Harry confessed.

“Well, if you love Hogwarts, you should! It has a lot of wonderful tales about the castle, and reveals a lot of secrets if you pay close attention, too,” Elías hummed, finishing the sauce and finally starting to cook the chicken. “In one of the chapters, it talks about the old Lake House. Nothing impressive, right?”

“It’s not very impressive,” Harry admitted.

“Well, apparently Godric Gryffindor built it for Salazar Slytherin,” Elías said, making Harry blink hard. “Salazar Slytherin loved the lake very much, it’s why the Slytherin Quarters are in the Dungeons – to see the inside of the lake.”

“I… I didn’t know that,” Harry breathed.

“Well, Godric thought that it’d be fitting to make a boathouse for the lake, and he did. Slytherin liked to go there and ah, read to Gryffindor? There are tales of students finding them there, reading poetry and the like. Sounds pretty romantic to me, hmm?”

“Yes,” Harry murmured, surprised. “But if I’m not an Heir of Slytherin –”

“Herpo the Foul was a parseltongue. And he came before Slytherin,” Elías pointed out. “So was Merlin, did you know?”

“ _Merlin_?” Harry gasped.

“And Director Cevedo as well, if I’m correct,” Elías added, passing Harry a glass of cold water, the boy gaping at Elías. “Speaking with snakes is _not_ evil, Harry. I’m _so_ very envious of you. You probably have had very nice conversations with snakes.”

“I have,” Harry confessed quietly, giving out a small smile. “I… had one, before going to Hogwarts? I was at the zoo and I freed a snake. She was very lonely and – and I freed her. She _thanked_ me.”

“Figures snakes would be polite,” Elías chuckled, looking over his shoulder at Harry before grinning. “So you want a snake?”

Harry breathed in sharply, eyes snapping to Elías, “You’re joking, right?”

“The warmth of San Fernando would be very good for them. Humidity wouldn’t be hard to keep. It depends on what kind of snake you want, of course, we can’t have a _huge_ python because to get them, you need a certain muscle mass. They’re constrictors, they can crush you, so… probably no Burmese or Boa Constrictors, yeah? Not until you’re older and have _more_ muscle.”

Harry stared with disbelief, hand tight on his glass, “You’re serious.”

“No, I’m Elías,” the Slytherin grinned and Harry gave a laugh, Elías’ heart jumping around his ribcage. He’d made a _dad_ joke. This was the best morning _ever_. “I’m dead serious, Harry. Honestly. Exotic animals do not bother me and I’d be happy to get you a snake. We’d need to watch out for Hedwig, though.”

“She’ll be okay, she’s very obedient,” Harry said, laughing, head dropping over his arms as he watched Elías, his face showing so much happiness. “I have to ask Hermione about this. But I – I want a snake.”

“Alright,” Elías grinned, straining the rice and nodding at Harry. “Come over here, Harry, let me show you where everything is so you can set up the table.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry nodded, standing, and once he got a grasp of the kitchen, he began to put on the dinner table everything – plates, cutlery, glasses.

Elías took their lunch to the table, setting the steaming rice and tikka masala chicken in the middle so Harry could grab however much he wanted – one of the things that had come back from his medical check was that he ate too little and he was underweight, so Elías set out to get him back into top shape with savory meals, still paying close attention to the diet recommendations he had tucked into all of Harry’s files.

They’d been able to find his medical records, thankfully, and Elías had set out in Belgium to keep everything the way his parents did it – a box for the family files, everything of importance; certificates, id’s, medical checks, whatever could be relevant in the future as well. His mother had also kept Elías’ and Elena’s drawings from when they were kids, too, along with some tapes of them both singing with pa. Elías hoped to have some memories that Harry could look back on fondly, as well, tucked away in a box for future him to see.

“This is _so good_ ,” Harry gushed, snapping Elías out of his thoughts, seeing the boy inhale his lunch with a slow grin. “It – I’ve never had this before but – I think I –”

“It’s Indian food,” Elías rested his chin on his hand, elbow on the table, giving Harry a soft smile. “Your parents probably fed you some, when you were a kid.”

“Oh,” Harry murmured, looking down at his plate, face turning tender. “Who… who cooked?”

“Your father cooked a lot but he was a nuisance on the kitchen,” Elías snickered. “I’ve had a Sight or two where he was yelling at Sirius to back off his kitchen. It’s amazing your mother didn’t whack some sense into him.”

Harry laughed, smiling, almost bouncing in his seat, “What’s this –”

“Tikka Masala,” Elías told him and Harry breathed it out, nodding. “But if you want to know more about the food your parents cooked, you should ask Sirius. I only know a few things from my Sights and he and Remus will be able to tell you better, yeah?”

“Alright,” Harry nodded. “I like it.”

“Me too,” Elías responded, quite happily.

The rest of lunch passed by in gentle silence, Harry and Elías enjoying the soft salty breeze that washed over the house through the windows. Elías looked at Harry, seeing how he was a bit tired still, finishing his lunch and just closing his eyes, looking out the backdoor to the garden. Elías reached over and gently brushed his hair out of his eyes, making Harry’s eyes flutter open and turn to him, surprised.

“If you’re tired,” Elías told him, smiling. “You can take a quick nap, yeah? We’ve a long day ahead, still. But Ron and Hermione won’t get here in like, two hours? So you can relax.”

“Oh,” Harry said before he nodded. “I – I’d like that.”

“Why don’t you put away your plate? I’ll get your trunk up to your room,” Elías stood, moving to get the trunk from the living room and starting to pull it up the stairs.

Once it was settled in Harry’s room, Elías heard Harry walk up and the boy let out a breath as he looked over his room again, looking absolutely delighted. It left a warm feeling in Elías’ chest and he patted his shoulder as he walked out.

“I’ll wake you up in an hour or so, kid,” he told him, closing the door and the moment he did, he heard Harry let out a sound of victory, making Elías almost laugh, hand over his mouth. It was all he wanted. It was _everything_ he wanted, for Harry to be happy.

* * *

Elías jumped from the couch as he heard the chimney light up and he glanced at the clock, frowning when he realized only an hour had passed – the shitty movie he’d been watching on TV had felt longer than that. So he looked over curiously, wondering if Ron and Hermione were just impatient when a familiar tall figure stepped through, Remus giving him a bright smile, making Elías grin.

“Remus!” he gasped, rushing to hug the man, the werewolf hugging him back. “I wasn’t expecting you! Hi!”

“Hullo,” he smiled back at him before presenting a little wrapped box with a bow. “I got Harry a little gift – just a small thing, really.”

“He’ll be so happy!” Elías told him, gently taking the box and setting it over the dining table, hands on his hips. “Not that I don’t love you popping by, but I wasn’t expecting you! Something the matter?”

“Checking in, mostly,” Remus chuckled – he wore comfortable pants and a white shirt with the sleeves pulled to his elbows, comfortable and at ease, making Elías feel a sort of happiness at Remus’ nonchalant relaxation around him and his home. “Merlin, it’s _boiling_ in here. I knew you said summer was worse –”

“Oh, trust me, and it’ll get _worse_ ,” Elías laughed, moving to the kitchen. “Water?”

“Please, and thank you,” Remus nodded, leaning into the side of the chimney, grinning. “How is it? How has it been? Come on, _tell me_.”

“Gods, _Remus_ ,” Elías laughed, gently resting his forehead against the handle of the freezer for a moment, breathing out, “It’s been _fantastic_. That boy is _so sweet_ and so _earnest_. He just wanted to hear about Sirius and his parents and – and we had a lot of _fun_. I gotta tell you all about the trip, just – come on, sit down, sit down! Here.”

Remus laughed as he slid on the stool he usually used, his face bright, sun making his scars a bit shiny and Elías realized just how much he’d missed him in this last week, taking a moment to watch his friend again.

“What?” Remus asked, confused as he touched his own chin. “Have I got something on my face?”

“No, no, just –” Elías laughed, walking over to him and brushing his blond hair out of his eyes. “I missed you this week, is all. It’s weird not seeing you at least once a day.”

“Oh, _agreed_ ,” Remus blew out a breath, chuckling. “Is it weird to say I even miss Filch?”

“Yes, you _weirdo_ ,” Elías laughed and Remus shoved at him, giggling. “Alright, alright, lemme tell you all, yeah?”

It was good to have Remus around again. The two of them spoke on the kitchen and Elías eventually began to brew some green tea to mix with some lemon and mint, intending to chill it with some magic. By the time he was done telling Remus of their trip, he realized that he needed to wake up Harry, otherwise the kid would miss out on sleep.

“I’ll go wake him, he was taking a nap,” Elías said and Remus gave him a little smirk.

“Already adapting to the Spanish schedule, I see,” he teased and Elías tried to kick him, Remus quickly blocking with a laugh.

“Don’t poke the bear, Lupin,” Elías warned, poking him in the chest, grinning wide before moving to walk to Harry’s room. He knocked first, as promised, and when there was no answer, Elías opened the door and poked his head in, realizing Harry had shut the curtains, giving a small smile. He carefully walked over to the bed, shaking the boy’s shoulder, Harry’s snoring quickly ceasing.

“W-wha?” Harry raised his head, glasses missing.

“It’s been an hour, kid,” Elías laughed quietly. “Come on, get up. Hermione and Ron will be here in no time and we already have a guest.”

“We do?” he croaked, rubbing his nose before blindly reaching for his glasses over his bunk, right against the bed.

“We do, come on down to the living room when you’re ready,” Elías smiled, walking out and closing the door behind him, moving back to where Remus was checking out one of his shelves, looking thoughtful. “Those are, in fact, in Spanish,” Elías pointed out.

“Yes, I’ve noticed,” Remus replied, amused, glancing over at him. “But I was wondering if you’d made any progress with the journal from that mysterious author?”

“Nope,” Elías sighed, running a hand through his loose hair, shrugging. “I mean, I haven’t had the time to read more of it but I’m hoping this summer I’ll finally finish it. Sev said you could absolutely help us, if you’d be into it?”

“That’d be good, yes, I want to be in the loop,” Remus nodded, walking a bit closer to Elías and moving a hand to untangle a chain on his ear that had apparently been caught in one of his earrings. “There we go – yes, I want to help out.”

“Alright,” Elías rubbed his own jaw, sighing. “It’ll take a lot but – well, do you have anything to do this summer?”

“I find my schedule frighteningly free,” Remus told him and Elías smiled.

“Then you’re welcome here anytime,” he said and Remus beamed, making Elías’ stomach burst into a thousand butterflies because _wow_ , when Remus smiled, his world truly spun, making him almost blush.

“Professor Lupin!” they both heard then and Remus and Elías turned to see Harry, still with a bedhead, rushing to the two adults. “You’re here!”

“Hello, Harry,” he smiled, chuckling. “I see you’ve made yourself at home.”

“This place is _brilliant_ ,” Harry’s eyes sparkled and Elías felt the need to hug the boy but restrained himself. “Are you coming with us?!”

“With you?” Remus blinked.

“We’re going to get Harry’s furniture to Ikea,” Elías said, crossing his arms, amused. “And if Harry wants you to come, I’d say it’d be a test of humility to you, Lupin.”

“Ah, the infamous Ikea where… you buy broken furniture,” Remus smirked.

“Can he come with us, then?” Harry asked Elías, who smirked back at Remus.

“Alright, alright, I’ll bite,” Remus shrugged, laughing, looking at Harry. “But since we’re not at Hogwarts for now, I’d prefer if you called me Remus, Harry.”

“Remus,” Harry repeated, smiling so wide at him. “Alright.”

“Have you been doing good so far, then, Harry?” Remus asked, arms crossing, looking at the green-eyed boy. “Eli’s family is very nice.”

“They _are_!” Harry nodded rapidly. “Lourdes and Juan were so nice to me!”

“I’m sure they were,” Remus whispered, glancing at Elías with a little smile. “So ah – I brought you a gift? Just – just a small thing, mind you, nothing big.”

“You did?” Harry’s eyes went big and Remus reached over for the little golden box, presenting it to Harry, looking nervous. It was _adorable_. Elías was holding in his delighted laughter against the back of his hand as Harry quickly opened it, finding a Gryffindor Quidditch Team banner, gasping. “This is perfect!”

“I thought you’d need something to put on your walls,” Remus shrugged before jumping as Harry rushed to hug him.

“It’s perfect! Thank you, pro – Remus!” the kid grinned and Remus took a moment before reciprocating, looking tongue-tied as he rubbed Harry’s back. When the kid pulled back, he turned to Elías. “Can I go hang this up?”

“Sure! But hey, wouldn’t it be better to wait until we’ve all your furniture?” Elías ruffled Harry’s hair. “Be a little patient and we’ll find the best spot, yeah?”

“Right, right!” Harry breathed, looking over the banner with a smile.

It was then that the chimney lit up again and Harry turned, eager, Hermione stepping through, along with what seemed like her parents – a tidy, perfectly muggle couple. Elías smiled at them, quickly approaching the woman, Jean Granger, with her perfect thick braids pulled into a precise bun and no makeup, her skin so dark that Elías was left a bit breathless.

“Hello!” he greeted, offering a hand as Hermione rushed to hug Harry, the two friends trying not to fall to the floor. “You must be Jean and Trevor!”

“That we are,” Jean smiled brightly.

“Very nice to meet you,” Trevor, a man with grey-peppered, tightly curled hair in a probably way too-long buzzcut, nodded at Elías. “Hermione’s been talking to us about you, Professor Fernández.”

“Oh! Just Elías, just Elías,” he insisted, laughing a bit nervously. “I – well, now I’m taking care of Harry, so I suppose we’ll see each other often.”

“Hopefully so,” Jean looked over and blinked. “And… who might you be?”

“Mum!” Hermione rushed to hold her hand, pulling her to Remus. “This is Professor Lupin! I didn’t know he’d be here but they’re friends so –”

“Remus Lupin,” Remus quickly said, offering a hand, both parents shaking it, looking over his scars for a moment before offering him smiles. “I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts.”

“Defense Against… alright,” Trevor blinked and Remus blinked back before breathing out.

“Right, right, you’re muggles – forgive me,” he gave a little laugh and nudged Elías. “This is your time to shine, I suppose.”

“Very much, yes,” Elías crossed his arms, nudging him back before turning to the Granger’s. “I’m a muggleborn and mostly live like a muggle. So if you have any questions, do let me know and I’ll gladly answer.”

“Why are there no _colleges_?” Trevor immediately burst out and Jean elbowed him.

“ _Trev!_ ” she hissed.

“What?! I want our daughter to have the best education, Jean!” Trevor stated.

“That’s alright,” Elías told them, chuckling, hand moving to pat Hermione’s shoulder. “She’s a very bright student. The best of her year, I’d say. She’s passing with flying colors and as long as she doesn’t burn out, she can get an _apprenticeship_ , not a college degree, which is much less about studying and much more personal. You get a professional good in his craft or profession, and they teach her everything that they possibly can for a year or two, depending on what she chooses. From then on, she has the experience and credentials.”

“I see,” Jean hummed, hand over her chin, eyes narrowing. “But can she go to normal college, with her Hogwarts diploma?”

“Yes, she can,” Elías nodded, watching the relief on their faces. “I went to college, myself. You just have to speak with the Board of Directions in the Ministry of Magic and do quite a bit of paperwork. The rest is just smooth sailing.”

“Oh, that’s a relief,” Trevor smiled, hand moving to pet Hermione’s hair. “So you get to choose whichever, darling!”

“I do!” she nodded eagerly.

“And you, Harry?” Jean suddenly asked, the boy blinking at her. “How have you been doing since the summer began? All good?” she leaned her face in, eyes serious, wanting to catch anything that could alarm her. Elías appreciated that other people were looking out for Harry.

“I’m perfect, Mrs Granger,” he grinned and Jean leaned back, satisfied.

“Good!” Trevor told him. “Going to other countries should always be a positive experience! Did you know that there are so many Roman ruins in this side of Spain? You see, the Roman settlers…”

Ah. So that’s where Hermione got it from.

Remus looked at Elías, a bit amused, and Elías grinned back at him, the two professors listening to the Granger’s speak before the chimney lit up once again and a barrage of orange came through, making Harry and Hermione rush to Ron and hug him, the boy laughing and quickly hugging back. Molly and Arthur stood there, looking around before noticing the Granger’s and greeting them cheerfully.

“Remus!” Molly gasped, eyes wide as she saw him and the werewolf gave her a soft smile before Molly was pushing through to grab his cheeks and kiss his forehead, pulling him down. “My boy, you look so thin! Look at you! Have you been eating well? I heard you were the professor but I didn’t know you were friends with Elías!”

“I am, I – ow, Molly,” Remus winced, laughing as she poked his ribs.

“Why haven’t you come around?! You know, I saw Emme recently and I think it’d be nice to meet once again and –”

“Molly, darling,” Arthur chuckled, pulling her back gently. “I think you might be overwhelming him.”

“You know professor Lupin, mum?” Ron asked, eyes wide.

“Yes, we… we worked together, back at war,” she said, hand over her cheek, looking at him softly with a small smile. “Oh, I’m glad you’re here. Are you getting along with Harry, then?”

“I’d like to think we are,” Remus looked over at the kid, who gave a wide grin and a nod.

“That’s _good_ ,” Molly rubbed her thumb against Harry’s cheek affectionately, then turned to Elías. “I suppose now is when I leave the kids to you!”

“It’ll be a very muggle-oriented and educational afternoon,” Elías assured them, Arthur’s eyes going wide with longing while Ron groaned.

“But it’s _summer_ , why do we have to _learn_?” he asked, pouting.

“Behave, Ronald,” Molly told him as Jane laughed.

“And have fun,” she told all the kids.

“If you all would like,” Elías offered them, stepping a bit closer, hands moving to rest on Harry’s shoulders. “You could all come for dinner! Have a little get-together for the beginning of summer, celebrate that Harry’s moving here and all that!”

“Oh, that’d be delightful!” Jane said, looking over at Trevor. “Didn’t we have that dinner –”

“Tomorrow,” he assured.

“We can certainly come,” Arthur assured Elías.

As the two sets of parents left, the kids all began to talk – rapid-fire, excited, looking around the living room and Elías whispered over to Remus while they were distracted.

“You ain’t getting out of this one,” he told the werewolf, poking his arm. “I gotta take care of three teenagers _or more_ during this summer. I’m gonna need some help.”

“Why don’t you ask Severus?” Remus teased, making Elías snicker. “I’ve heard he has _such_ a good hand with children.”

“Now you’re just being mean,” Elías laughed, slapping his side before approaching the little golden trio. “Alright, you three! We’re leaving already so we’ve time to set up all the furniture when we come back. Are you all ready?”

“Wait, set up the furniture?” Ron frowned.

“It’s Ikea, Ronald,” Hermione huffed.

“That’s the fun of it, really,” Elías told him but Ron looked utterly confused, still, as he followed them all outside into the car.

“Oh no, not another _car_ ,” he groaned.

“This one doesn’t fly, mate, don’t worry,” Harry assured, making Elías eye them.

“I heard of the Whomping Willow incident. The _first_ ,” he told them and Ron, Hermione and Harry glanced at each other, very obviously trying not to laugh. “I very much hope you don’t steal my car or bike, _kids_.”

“Well, Harry’s not confined in his bedroom with bars,” Ron piped up. “So I think we’re good, professor.”

“Ronald!” Hermione hissed and Harry burst out laughing, Remus holding in his own laughter as he closed the door of the copilot’s seat.

“Alright, alright, settle down,” Elías laughed, pulling out to the driveway. “We’re going to Jerez de la Frontera, so it’s gonna take a little over half an hour. Can you all behave, hmm?”

“Can _you_?” Remus muttered and Elías punched his arm, making Hermione giggle. “Ow!”

“You’re testing me today, Lupin,” Elías chuckled and Remus merely grinned. “Alright. Off we go.”

* * *

“Those meatballs were _so good_ ,” Ron sighed happily, leaning back on the backseat of the car as Harry kept the _kallax_ over their laps, a _hemmes_ right over it. “I think I like Ikea.”

“Wait until we’ve to put all of this together,” Hermione told him, huffing a bit, making sure the _ranarp_ work lamp wouldn’t fall off her lap.

“I’m so tired, though,” Harry groaned.

“It’s fine, guys,” Elías told them three, waving it off as he turned right towards the driveway back to Camposoto and El Rompido. “You guys don’t need to put anything together, Remus and I will do it.”

“We _what_?” Remus looked at him, wide-eyed.

“We’re two adults, come on, it’s just Ikea furniture,” Elías rolled his eyes. “It’s won’t be that hard.”

“We could help,” Harry said quietly.

“Nah, for real,” Elías told him, glancing at the rearview mirror with a small smile. “You guys go out, have fun at the beach while the sun’s still out. Take a walk! Explore a bit, yeah? Don’t go too far but have fun.”

Harry smiled back and nodded, looking at his two friends with an excited expression. Elías parked easily, telling them to get out and go out, the kids quickly leaving all the new boxes in the car and scrambling to the other side of the driveway down the stairs to the beach, laughing. Elías stayed for a moment on the driver’s seat, watching them leave, a feeling of satisfaction settling deep in his stomach.

“So far,” Remus spoke up softly, making Elías turn to him, to his proud green eyes. “I think you’re doing an excellent job.”

“Am I?” Elías asked, sounding more insecure than he’d thought before breathing out. “Fuck, I – I hope I am.”

“I knew you would,” Remus opened the door and moved out, stretching a bit. “I didn’t have a _single_ doubt.”

“I did. A bunch. Still _do_ ,” Elías mumbled, making sure the trunk and doors were open before using his wand to pull everything out, Remus opening the front door. “I feel like at some point I’m gonna fuck up majorly, Remus.”

“And you probably will,” the werewolf shrugged, making Elías’ stomach knot. “But I’ve a feeling you and Harry will work it out. And talk to each other and be honest.”

“There’s still a lot to be done,” Elías breathed in before quickly exhaling, bringing every box up towards Harry’s bedroom. “I mean – the kid has to start going to therapy, get a Spanish ID, adjust to a muggle lifestyle that _isn’t_ abusive…”

“Give it time. And have patience,” Remus told him, hand moving to squeeze Elías’ shoulder as the boxes settled down in Harry’s room. “So far, you’re both doing well. Celebrate that, allow yourself to say _good job_.”

“I feel like I can’t rest,” Elías confessed, wand back in its holster, hands in front of him, limp and nervous. “I feel like –”

“Eli.”

Remus moved in front of him, hand sliding up to hold Elías’ chin up, making sure the Astronomy professor looked at him in the eye. Remus’ soft, velvet greens held Elías’ gaze and Elías felt his shoulders immediately relax, a bit embarrassed at how easily Remus’ presence could calm him down.

“Eli, it’s going to be alright,” Remus told him, voice gentle and easy, making Elías nod slowly as he closed his eyes. “How have you been doing with meds? All good?”

“Mhmm,” Elías gave a small smile. “Just mild headaches from time to time, the rest is all good. I’ve been responding well – no more random spikes of anxiety, my insomnia is _much_ better and I don’t like, feel so tired all the time.”

Remus smiled, relieved, “I’m _so_ glad, Eli. You’re taking care of yourself _and_ Harry. You’re handling the paperwork, you’re waking up every day for that kid and yourself. I think as long as you try your best, things will be alright.”

Elías took a deep breath and nodded, arms sliding around Remus’ waist, hugging him tight, Remus reciprocating easily, his chin sliding over the top of Elías’ head as he gently rocked them both. Elías focused on breathing for a while, eyes closed, Remus’ smell all around him and, soon enough there was no doubt, no anxiety left. Just Ikea boxes, the sound of the kids outside on the beach laughing too-loud and Remus’ heartbeat against his nose.

“Better?” Remus asked as Elías pulled away, running a hand through his hair and nodding at the Gryffindor. “Very well. Then we should get to building this.”

“Let’s start with this shelf,” Elías laughed, grabbing the _kallax_.

The shelf was easy – _quite_ easy. Elías already had a hang of it and Remus followed instructions pretty well, even if he spent a while watching the instructions as if they were written in Mandarin. It took them only half an hour and, once set up against the wall on its side, Elías and Remus looked at each other with satisfaction.

“That was easier than I thought!” Remus said, laughing.

“We’ve got a PAX wardrobe, don’t look so optimistic yet,” Elías said dryly, glancing at that box. “But I’m honestly thinking we can build it tomorrow. Let’s finish up everything else, yeah?”

“Alright,” Remus hummed before nudging Elías, chuckling. “Don’t you have some music for this, hmm?”

“Oh shit, right,” Elías laughed, hand against his head. “Gods, I was so focused on the damn furniture –”

“It’s fine, I was just teasing,” Remus assured before soft guitars began to play, making him chuckle. “Alright, let’s do the desk next?”

“Desk next,” Elías nodded, pulling back his hair into a ponytail.

It was hard work, to set up everything else but by the time two hours had passed by, they had everything but the wardrobe set up, sweating and tired, the two professors laying on the cool tiled floor of Harry’s bedroom and Elías raised a finger to the ceiling they were staring at.

“I’m gonna get him glow in the dark stars,” Elías told Remus, the man blinking.

“What?”

“Like, glow in the dark stars? Stickers? You’ve never had those?” Elías turned his head to Remus’, who simply stared, making Elías gasp. “That’s a staple of every childhood, Moony! Sticky, glowing stars in your ceiling!”

“I’ve never heard of that,” Remus laughed, eyes bright as he looked at Elías. “You want to put the sky on Harry’s bedroom, why not make an enchantment?”

“No, no, that’s not right – that’s _too_ wizardry,” Elías replied, staring back at the white ceiling and sighing. “I’ll ask him if he wants it, anyway. Which one he wants.”

“Did you have them, then?” Remus asked softly.

“Mhmm,” Elías nodded, eyes closing for a moment. “My dad in fact got paint – like, glow in the dark paint? And began to replicate the night sky from Camposoto. My parents’ house in here, at town? Still has those stars. I remember I started to stay awake at night to just stare.”

“Your father also gave you your first telescope, right?” Remus whispered.

“Mhmm,” Elías nodded. “And taught me how to swim. And how to sail.”

“You’re closer to your father than you are with your mother,” Remus pointed out.

“I think I’ve said this before, but my mother and I had a very complicated relationship when I was a teenager,” Elías murmured, sighing, frowning at the ceiling. “It’s why – why I want Harry to feel confident when he’s in doubt, or sad, or angry. Confident to talk to me, I mean. If he keeps it all to himself and takes only the advice of other too-young people, I feel like… he’d end up like me, you know? And I’m not saying I went through the same shit Harry did, we _obviously_ have had very differences experiences but – but teenagers are _fragile_ , Moony. They feel so much at such an exaggerated level. I don’t want Harry to feel _despair_.”

“I think none of us want to make the mistakes our parents did,” Remus told him and Elías nodded, knowing that _that_ was a sure way to make other, maybe worse mistakes. He felt his face pinching with worry again but, in a second, Remus’ fingers slowly slipped between his and Elías turned his head again to watch his friend, surprised at the gesture. “You’re not alone in this, Eli.”

“I know,” Elías murmured, watching Remus’ face. “I’ve got you, after all.”

“I know maybe Harry doesn’t want me around much –”

“Oh, _stop it_ ,” Elías chuckled, smiling at him. “That boy adores you, Remus.”

The Gryffindor flushed, quickly looking at the ceiling instead of Elías, hand twitching on his and Elías gently brushed his thumb through a deep, knotted scar on the back of his hand, making Remus sigh deeply.

“I – I like him, too,” Remus muttered, chewing on his lower lip hard. “He’s – he’s good. Has Lily’s and James’ kindness in him, the need to help and love his friends fully, thoroughly. Sometimes I look at him and… and I see them alive. In _him_.”

Elías said nothing, watching Remus as he slid a bit closer, his head slowly moving to press against Remus’ shoulder in support of him.

“They’d be happy to know that I’m also taking care of him,” Remus told Elías, swallowing. “I’d like to care for him, too, Elías.”

“Well, I think he wants you to, as well,” he replied quietly. “I think, honestly? It’s – it’s time for you to come back to your old friends, Moony. Like Molly said, that Emme? She was part of the Order, wasn’t she?”

“Exchange student from Beauxbatons in Seventh Year,” Remus told him quietly. “She and Dorcas had a thing.”

“Oh,” Elías remembered his Sight before Dorcas’ death. “Did you two get along?”

“She has fibromyalgia,” Remus told him and Elías paused, surprised. “Chronic pains in her legs. It causes her to either need crutches or a wheelchair and since she’s muggleborn, she doesn’t really… get along with wizarding medics. We bonded over cussing out medics and doctors. She’s got a no-nonsense attitude and she often… I don’t know. Understood me? In a way that others couldn’t.”

“That’s nice, that you had someone to talk with,” Elías told him, giving a small smile. “She and Dorcas were together, then?”

“On and off. Mostly during the war – and by then, Emme went to spy through France. She was the best at intel, honestly,” Remus sighed deeply, rubbing his face. “Merlin, I really went off the grid after it all happened. Just realized how much I miss her.”

“Tell Molly,” Elías suggested, then said. “Dumbledore told me he’s reuniting the Order of the Phoenix.”

“So he’s said – to me as well,” Remus turned his head to Elías, their breaths mingling together. “He asked you to join, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” Elías’ eyes were straight on his. “And I said yes.”

“Of course you did,” Remus closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to Elías’. “I hate this.”

“So do I, but it’s best to prepare in case the rumors are true, especially with Pettigrew on the loose,” Elías told Remus, squeezing his fingers. “Perhaps, together, we can prevent it from happening altogether.”

“I hope so,” Remus sighed. “I… I’m scared.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you, Remus,” Elías told him, pressing against him a bit more and Remus let out a little breathless laugh.

“It’s not me I’m worried about, Eli,” Remus rasped, breathing in shakily. “It’s everyone _else_. You and Harry and Sirius and every bloody kid –”

“We’ll be ready this time. Voldemort won’t have the means that he had back then,” Elías murmured to him, nuzzling his cheek. “Remus, it’ll be alright.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“I _can_. And I am,” Elías opened his eyes and Remus watched him, searching his gaze. “I’ve Seen one of the outcomes. And if we work hard and tread with caution… I think we can get out of this one.”

“I hope you’re right,” Remus muttered before they heard the front door open, the kids’ voices ringing downstairs. “We should maybe start dinner, instead of lying here like tuna fish, huh?”

“My mom used to call me tuna as a kid,” Elías began to smile, laughing. “Cause I’d lay on the beach all day, just there, happy as could be.”

“Bet you burned a lot,” Remus laughed and Elías slapped his chest, making Remus laugh harder.

“I’m _very_ white!” Elías replied, giggling, face against Remus’ shoulder. “Moony, you _dick_!”

“Alright, alright, up we go,” Remus stood, helping Elías up, chuckling. “I’m honestly glad that we’re leaving that wardrobe for tomorrow. If I’ve to look at another Swedish word, I might just throw myself out the window.”

Elías laughed, moving towards the hallway when they nearly ran over the kids, who all looked excitedly at the room.

“Hey! Did you guys have fu – oh, _Hermione_ ,” Elías laughed, seeing them with their jeans still cuffed and their feet bare. “You’ve got sand all over your hair!”

“I fell over on a dune,” she flushed.

“It’s fine! We all have sand everywhere!” Ron replied, shaking his head like a dog and immediately spraying Harry and Hermione, who whined at the boy.

“Alright, alright, you guys,” Elías chuckled, stepping aside with Remus. “The only thing left is the wardrobe but –”

“ _Whoa_!” Harry quickly walked in, eyes wide, turning all around. “That’s… it’s my room!”

“It’s your room,” Elías nodded, smiling, leaning against the doorframe, Remus’ arm resting on the top of it. “All yours!”

“S’really nice,” Harry murmured, touching the desk for a moment, blinking hard as Hermione hugged him from behind, grinning at Ron. “It’s, uh… thank you, Elías.”

“Of course,” was all the Spaniard said before taking a deep breath. “Well! You kids entertain yourselves, ‘cause Remus and I have a big dinner to make.”

“Do you need help?” Harry asked and Elías gave him a small smile.

“No, kiddo, it’s fine. You three have fun.”

“Alright,” he looked at his friends, both Ron and Hermione giving him bright grins.

The three of them scurried off, leaving Remus and Elías to watch them leave out the door again. Elías gave one last glance at the almost finished bedroom and pulled Remus back to the kitchen, humming happily.

“See?” Remus said once they heard the front door shut. “He loves it here.”

“Wait until he turns sixteen,” Elías said dryly and Remus laughed.

“Alright, fair enough,” he said, hands moving to rest on the counter. “What are we making?”

“You’re helping?” Elías smiled.

“Well, I’m not Severus Snape, but I think I can follow directions,” Remus replied and Elías gave a little laugh.

“Very well – start with the onions, then.”


	4. A Different Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter.......................took a while. I'm sick and it's not really that good but I hope you guys enjoy it! Some Snape/Potter moments!
> 
> Trigger Warnings for this Chapter:  
> \- General warning for recovery of child abuse!

“There’s a _reason_ why I told you to get a _telephone_ , Severus!” Elías said from the floor, legs still over the chair from where he’d fallen and Corban laughed into his hand while Severus hurried to grab Elías’ arm, pulling him up. Elías hastily brushed crumbs from his awful pajama shirt, scowling at the two other Slytherins. “You two are _lucky_ that I wasn’t holding my mug.”

“If you had a floo ringer –” Severus began, cocking an eyebrow but Elías glared.

“They’re expensive as _fuck_ , Sev. I’m not spending my money on that piece of junk,” he walked by him and Corban to the kitchen, sighing, serving them both some coffee before walking back and handing it to them.

“Thanks, Elías,” Corban grinned at him.

“Thank you,” Severus hummed, taking the mug slowly before frowning. “It’s nearly _boiling_ here. What on _Earth_ is this weather?”

“Spain,” Elías replied, rolling his eyes. “Maybe if you wizards stopped layering, you’d appreciate all the sun, huh?”

“He’s kind of right,” Corban said as he took off his overtunic, setting it over the back of a chair, still looking amused at Elías. He had his glass eye back on and looked much, much better than the last time they’d see each other. Elías felt relief and a need to hug the man, but he held back. “I mean, don’t you see how comfortable he looks?”

“I’m in my pajamas,” Elías told him, chuckling.

“Oh, thank _fuck_ , I thought it was muggle fashion,” Corban’s eyes went wide.

“How are you doing, man?” Elías asked, shaking his head, watching him with a smile.

“Good. Decent. _Trying_ ,” he sighed, staring at the inside of his cup and swallowing. “It’s been tough, I won’t lie. And it’s still tough.”

“Well, that’s why you’ve got a good support system,” Elías said softly, patting Corban’s arm, making the man smile. “How’s Will?”

“Still in Latvia,” Severus hummed, leaning against the table, having taken off his outer layers as well, leaving him in that awfully _handsome_ white poet shirt. “With Angela. He’ll stay there for a while, I believe.”

“That’s my fault,” Elías sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned against the dining table. “With the whole Carrow and Pettigrew thing…”

“He’ll be alright. He’s staying with his daughter, yes?” Corban threw an arm over Elías’ shoulders, smiling at him. “It’s summer! In Latvia it’ll be the perfect weather for old little William. He gets grumpy when it’s too hot. He can get _so_ whiny.”

Elías cocked an eyebrow, leaning against the man, “Kind of like you?”

Corban slapped a hand on his own chest, “Well, _I_ may get whiny but _I_ make it hot.”

Elías burst out laughing, shaking his head and Severus rolled his eyes at the both of them while Corban grinned and Elías giggled. “Alright, alright – tell me why you two are invading my house so early in the morning and maybe I’ll forgive you about the whole surprising the fucking lights out of me, hmm?”

“If we knew you’d be spooked like a deer…” Severus raised his eyebrows, unimpressed.

“You’d do it anyway,” Elías said dryly.

“He’s not wrong,” Corban snickered.

“We’re here because one, it is Thursday and Kiera is preparing dinner back in Hungary, and of course, she asked us to invite you. And two, because you said in your last letter that you had searched for the AA Meetings?”

“Right! Yes, yes, of course!” Elías nodded, putting down his mug before telling them to wait, leaving the room and moving to his office.

Unbeknownst to Elías, though, Harry had just woken up, stumbling out of his room without his glasses and with an avid need for water. He walked through the cool tiles of the house, yawning, hair flat on one side and a mess on the other and, as he walked into the living room, his worst nightmare turned around –

“ _AAAAH!_ ” Harry screamed as he saw Snape, the man jumping.

“ _POTTER!_ ” He threw a hand at his chest, eyes wide. “What on _Earth_ are you –”

“What are _you_ doing _here_?!” Harry squeaked.

“I could say –” the Potions Master closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose as another strange man poked his head out of the kitchen, laughing into his hand. “Of course, of _course_ , you _live_ here now,” he scowled.

“Don’t be _rude_ , Severus,” Corban said, amused, snickering as he put his elbow on the man’s shoulder, smirking at him. “You’re a _guest_ in _his_ house, after all.”

“Who are you?” Harry asked, frowning at him.

“Corban Yaxley,” he replied, nodding at him. “And you’re Harry Potter.”

“Oh,” Harry blinked fast, rubbing at his eyes, wishing he’d taken his glasses. “Theo and the others talked about you.”

“I hope they talked _well_ ,” Corban grinned and Harry… Harry liked him, even if he couldn’t see his face very well.

“They did,” he said quickly, nodding, “Very well, actually.”

“Hey!” Elías walked in, hand moving to Harry’s hair, laughing. “Wow, you got a serious case of bedhead, huh?”

“Always happens when it’s hot,” the boy wrinkled his nose and Elías grinned.

“It’s cute,” he assured, trying to pet it into some semblance of tidiness. “You hungry? There’s toast and some scrambled eggs I kept warm. You can eat while I talk with these two.”

“Alright,” Harry shrugged, glanced at Snape as he passed him, the both of them narrowing their eyes at the other. “What are they doing here?” he asked, the question mostly directed because of Snape.

“Because they’re my friends, Harry,” Elías chuckled, handing Corban a piece of paper. “Here are all of them, along with a map. Tell me where and I’ll help you set it up. Fully muggle, super discrete, no interfering wizards.”

“You sure it’s discrete?” Corban frowned a bit, looking over the list. “I have _never_ heard of any towns with those names. Alright.”

“Good,” Elías hummed as Corban looked at the map. “Can I give a suggestion?”

“Please,” the man nodded.

“There’s a town named King’s Point down south,” Elías pointed at the map. “It’s old and historical, very pleasant. There’s a bunch of hippies living there, as I’ve heard, and they’ve got very good reviews of the program – attentive, non-religious, and the coffee shops there are apparently great so, you know, maybe you should try there.”

“Hm,” Severus looked over the notes, tapping his chin before looking at Corban. “It’s worth a try.”

“You can always change programs,” Elías assured, one hand moving to rub his arm.

“Right,” Corban cleared his throat before sighing. “Yes, alright. Sure. Why not? I’ll try King’s Point.”

“I’ll give a call, then,” Elías grinned, smushing Corban’s cheeks. “Look at _youuuu_!”

“Elías, _please_ ,” Corban laughed, hands on his wrists, and Elías pulled away.

“Made you laugh,” he replied and Corban reached over to lightly punch his shoulder.

“Alright, fine,” Corban chuckled, rubbing his jaw before finishing his mug of coffee. “In any case, are you coming tonight or not?”

“I don’t know,” Elías frowned before turning to Harry, who was watching them and eating on the counter, glasses still missing. “Hey, kiddo – wanna go to Pansy’s?”

Harry paused, blinking hard, “Pansy’s house? In _Hungary_?”

“Yep, in Szeged,” Elías nodded, arms crossing. “There’ll be dinner and I was invited. Since you’re under my care, you can come as well.”

“Oh,” Harry murmured, still looking surprised before he frowned. “Is – who else is going?”

“Who else?” Elías turned to Severus, who sighed.

“The usual – Tobias, Sienna and her husband, Narcissa and Lucius, Felix and Kiera, of course, I believe James? Is also coming?”

Corban nodded, “You and I.”

“And George, I believe,” Severus added.

Elías turned to Harry, smiling, but Harry looked pensive still, “What about Theo?”

“Theodore?” Elías felt his stomach clench and when he glanced at Corban, the man winced, looking away. “…no, Harry, I don’t think he’ll be there.”

“I don’t think I want to go,” the boy said quietly and Elías approached, gently brushing his wild curls back from his eyes, giving him a small smile.

“Then you don’t have to go,” he replied, making Harry’s shoulders slowly sink with relief. “Sorry, guys,” he turned to the other two, shrugging. “I’m staying. Another day, I’ll go.”

“You can go!” Harry hurried to say and Elías looked at him, surprised. “I just, well, I can stay here alone.”

“You sure?” Elías frowned.

“Boy is fourteen, isn’t he?” Corban approached, chuckling, nudging Elías.

“Thirteen,” Elías replied, lips pursing.

“Just have dinner ready for him and let him call a friend,” Corban shrugged and Harry’s face lit up, turning to Elías.

“Could we invite Ron over?” his green eyes widened and Elías blew out a bread.

“…I have to talk to Molly about that,” he said, hand on his hip. “But if she says yes, then I want you both on best behavior, alright? I don’t like leaving you two alone when you don’t know the place yet.”

“It’s fine, I’ll just show Ron what a movie is!” Harry assured, trying to make his eyes look big. “Please, Elías, please! We’ll clean up!”

“Kid’s begging,” Corban nudged him and Elías gave him a playful glare.

“Oh, _now_ I know why Narcissa pulls you out of the room when Draco asks for something, huh?” he cocked an eyebrow, making Corban snicker. “Alright! Alright, fine, Harry, send a letter to Ron asking him to talk to Molly. You’ve my approval.”

“Yes!” Harry hurried out of the kitchen – then turned, grabbed the rest of his toast and quickly left again. “Thank you!”

Severus watching him leave, body tense, arms crossed and Elías walked over to him, poking his side, making the potioneer turn to him with his mouth downturned.

“He’s living with me now,” Elías pointed out. “You’ll have to get used to each other.”

“I could just never come by,” Severus said in quite a petulant voice but Elías gripped his arm, pouting hard. “Oh _no_ , do _not_ make that ridiculous face –”

“You’d _abandon_ me, Sev?” he gasped while Corban watched with a smirk. “Me? Elías? Your good friend?”

“Yes, and I’d do it _twice_ ,” Severus pulled on his ear and Elías finally broke into a giggle as his friend rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll put up with the boy. But if he starts anything –”

“Then you shut your mouth because you’re a mature adult who can get over whatever a teenager says outside of school grounds, the way I do with Blaise,” Elías gave him a venomous smile, making Severus pause. “Right?”

Severus grunted, “Right.”

Elías nodded, satisfied, pulling at Severus’ arm until he uncrossed them, relaxing a bit, making him smile, “How’s Sienna?”

“Hmm?” Severus stared.

“Her pregnancy,” Elías explained and Severus hummed.

“Right – she’s gotten… _big_ ,” he chuckled a bit, hand resting on the dining table. “Apparently, the child had a little growth spurt.”

“She looks like she’s hiding a watermelon under her clothes,” Corban laughed loudly and Elías giggled, Severus’ lips quirking up. “Sienna looks radiant, though. As she always does.”

“I bet,” Elías nodded, smiling softly. “I’m glad it’s going well for her. Health-wise?”

“All good,” Severus replied, watching Elías for a moment before saying, “It’s a girl.”

“A girl?” Elías blinked before chuckling. “Oh, and she only has brothers…”

“She’ll have them all wrapped around her fingers, mark my words,” Corban told them both, patting the table just as the chimney lit up and Remus walked in, making Severus – though he’d never admit it – perk up. “Oh, _Lupin_.”

“Shite,” Remus’ eyes widened before he actually gave a smile. “Yaxley?”

“Got more scars in you than I remember, huh?” Corban laughed, walking over and giving his hand a firm shake, looking a bit more serious as he said, “It’s good to see them closed and healed, Lupin. S’good to see you.”

“Likewise, Yaxley. Thought I admit, the eyepatch would’ve been more impressive,” Remus joked, making Corban grin, stepping back, and Elías wondered how these two were _friends_ when they’d nearly killed each other at war the last time they met. “Hello, Severus.”

“Lupin,” Severus simply nodded. “What are you doing here?”

“Building a wardrobe,” Remus replied and Elías stood straight.

“Oh, you two are here, too!” he clasped his hands together, eyes bright. “You can help!”

“Help building a _wardrobe_?” Corban frowned. “Why don’t you just buy it?”

“We did,” Elías grinned.

“Then why – what?”

“Is this about the Ikera think?” Severus asked.

“Ikea,” Remus and Elías corrected at the same time, making Elías laugh. “Listen – just help us, alright? It’s a bit complicated.”

“You’ve all the pieces and you just need to follow instructions,” Remus explained.

“Doesn’t sound complicated at all,” Severus scowled. “A puzzle would be harder. Come on, Corban,” he stood straight, moving deeper into the house. “Let’s get this done, since apparently the muggle way is _too hard_.”

“Severus, I don’t think – alright,” Corban snickered as he followed the man and Elías took his mug before he and Remus moved to Harry’s bedroom, the boy standing in the hallway as Severus waved his wand and pulled out all the pieces from the box, bringing the instructions to his hand.

“This is in Swedish,” he stated and Elías smirked, leaning into the doorframe.

“Mhmm,” he nodded, sipping from his mug. “Lowly, lowly muggle Swedish people. I’m sure you two with your magic will be _perfectly_ capable of building it, right?”

“There’s no _point_ in selling furniture by pieces,” Severus told him, rolling his eyes as Corban sat on the floor, taking the instructions from Severus and burying his nose in them. Harry leaned against Elías’ back, looking into the room, glasses now in place and Elías glanced at him and gave a wink, which almost made Harry burst out laughing but he held it in well. “We can do this with magic. It won’t take long.”

“Go ahead,” Elías waved his hand, nonchalant, eyebrows rising.

“I’ll help,” Remus stepped in, rolling back his sleeves. “I’ve got enough experience now, from yesterday. That way we’ll have this in a moment.”

* * *

“How you doin’, boys?” Elías asked as he walked by, two hours later, now dressed and ready for the day, seeing the wardrobe halfway done and Corban pouring over the instructions _yet again_.

“They don’t know how to put on the legs,” Harry told him from his perch over the sideways shelf, sucking on the straw of the juicebox Elías had handed him before and Severus snarled.

“We _do_ , we just need to find the bloody screw! Where is it?!”

“I’m _looking_ ,” Remus replied, lifting the carpet, and Elías covered his mouth, trying not to be delighted in how three grown ass fucking men struggled to put an Ikea wardrobe together, with _magic_ , and failing miserably. “You could _help_ , Elías.”

“Ah, but what would be the fun in that?” he smirked, winking at Severus when the man glared at him. “What was it? A little bit of magic and you guys would be done in a second?”

“Magic doesn’t help with understanding Swedish!” Corban cried out.

“Do I tell them or do you?” Elías turned to Harry, who shrugged.

“I tried, but they ignored me,” he replied cheerfully.

“What? What is it?” Corban asked, frustrated, and Elías walked over, took the instructions manual and turned a few pages to the English part, making Severus’, Remus’ and Corban’s face change. “Oh.”

“Ah,” Remus giggled.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Severus mumbled quietly.

“Heard that,” Harry piped up.

“ _Potter_ –” Severus began but Elías gave him a warning look, making Severus sigh loudly, snatching the instructions and waving his wand. “Give me _that_ –”

“At least one of us is having fun,” Corban pointed out, looking over at Harry, who nodded happily.

“Alright, guys, enough,” Elías laughed, moving to Severus and taking the instructions but Severus moved away, reading over them, making Elías giggle. “Sev – Sev, come _on_.”

“I can _do_ this,” he stressed.

“Yes, yes, I know you can do anything, _sol_ , I know,” Elías said, trying not to sound patronizing and failing before he slipped the instructions away, making Severus sigh. “Don’t worry, you can make lunch, yes?”

“It’s needlessly complicated,” Severus stated, arms crossing.

“No,” Elías grinned. “You’re just a wizard.”

With that, he followed each step, using his wand to move the pieces and, within fifteen minutes, the wardrobe stood against the wall, between shelves for Harry’s books and other belongings.

“There we go,” Elías smiled at Harry. “Like it?”

“Looks great,” he grinned.

“Good,” Elías pointed at his bunk, hands on his hips. “Then how about you finally unpack?”

“Uh-oh,” the boy paused.

“ _No, no, no, no me vengas con esas_ ,” Elías laughed, flicking his chin up gently. “Put your stuff in place. Any dirty clothes in the hamper. If you’ve any junk, you can bring a trashbag here.”

“Alright,” Harry sighed, moving to his trunk as the others left his room, Corban slapping Elías over the back as they all gathered in the living room.

“That was some parenting, huh?” his eyebrows raised and Elías flushed.

“I just told him to clean up, idiot,” Elías replied, scowling.

“He’s been doing very well,” Remus piped in, because he was a traitorous dickhead, and Elías groaned as Corban elbowed his side again. “He gets so flustered –”

“Telling a kid to clean up their room isn’t the epitome of parenting, it’s just being an adult in charge of a teenager,” Elías told them all, rolling his eyes. “If y’all wanna flatter me that much, how about you try a different approach, hmm?”

“Talking about flattery,” Corban suddenly said as Elías dropped on the couch, Remus gently lifting his legs and sitting down, letting them back down but on his lap. Corban stood while Severus also took a seat next to Elías’ head and the three professors looked at the other Slytherin. “Kiera asked us if you’d bring a cake?”

“A cake?” Elías blinked, surprised. “Oh. Uh, sure?”

“I’m still sad I didn’t get to try that carrot cake,” Corban laughed.

“I promised the kids I’d bring another for them,” Elías tapped his chin, thoughtful. “Hmm… are you guys in a mood for baking?”

“No,” Severus replied easily, cocking an eyebrow. “But that’s not an option, is it?”

“Nope,” Elías grinned, standing. “Will all of you be staying for lunch?”

“I will,” Remus hummed, standing as well and Corban kicked Severus’ leg as he opened his mouth, making the potioneer glare.

“We’ve _food_ at home,” he scowled at Corban.

“We’re staying,” Corban told Elías, who smiled widely.

“Good!” he helped Severus up, patting his cheek as the man rolled his eyes. “Aw, come on. I know, for _sure_ , that the more you’re around Harry, the more you two will learn to tolerate each other. Maybe –”

“Do _not_ ,” Severus warned but Elías grabbed his jaw, pulling Severus closer, making the man stumble a bit as Remus and Corban laughed.

“ _Maybe_ ,” Elías insisted. “You’ll get along one day!”

“I doubt it,” Severus mumbled, his hand moving to the small of Elías’ back to have some balance and Elías grinned.

“Well, you sure couldn’t even look at Remus and now I’d say you two are friends,” he replied, cocking an eyebrow.

“That’s different,” Severus growled and Elías just laughed.

“Yes, yes, of course,” he leaned over to kiss his cheek and Severus looked away quickly, hand tightening on Elías’ shirt before he quickly stood straight. “We can make Fesenjan for lunch.”

“That’s Severus’ favorite,” Corban spoke.

“I know,” Elías grinned, looking at Severus as the man walked to the kitchen wordlessly and Corban elbowed Remus, wiggling his eyebrows, making Remus snicker. Elías stepped on their feet on the way, giving them both warning looks but apparently, Corban didn’t care at all, leaning over to whisper to him.

“He’s been restless about coming here,” Corban murmured and Elías flushed, trying to elbow him. “I swear!” he said.

“What’s going on?” Remus walked closer.

“You two are _three year olds_ ,” Elías huffed, moving to the kitchen with a roll of his eyes. “Come on, make yourselves useful – grab some flour, carrots, sugar, salt…”

* * *

The first few days living in El Rompido were – strange but _good_.

It was a slow process to get used to all the rules Harry had never had before, and the rules that he’d always had and didn’t anymore. Elías often encouraged him to get out of his bedroom, for example, and wanted him to eat lunch and dinner together with him and whichever guest, if there was one. Oftentimes, it was even Harry’s own guest, and to have Ron and Hermione around so much during the summer was _mindblowing_.

They’d take walks around the beach or take the bus to town, which Harry slowly explored at his own pace. It was _bizarre,_ San Fernando, like walking on another planet. Going to Hogwarts while growing up muggle hadn’t nearly prepared him for the barrage of cultural differences that he found at first – the colors, the sounds, the music, the volume of people and their willingness to help. The very first day he went to town, he and Hermione got lost and a man in charge of a bar had walked out to the street and asked them in choppy English where they wanted to go. He’d even walked with them both to the bus stop to make sure they wouldn’t get lost again.

And in El Rompido, things were just as weird, too.

Harry could have seconds, for example. And not only that, but Elías had learned that Harry loved those little tiny potatoes that got extra crunchy in the oven, and he’d taken to only getting small potatoes on Harry’s plate. Harry had mentioned that he’d never had much fish that wasn’t fish n chips, so he’d grabbed some big white fish from the market and, when Harry had said that he’d liked it, Elías had told him the name so Harry could ask for it another week.

Elías cleaned but not obsessively, like Aunt Petunia. Sometimes, Harry would find shoes somewhere they weren’t supposed to be and he tripped over them. It was a bad habit, he knew, but he stared at them, at that piece of evidence that Elías was… human. He liked that he left his shoes everywhere – and it was _everywhere_. Harry would pick them up and set them aside and then, when they went outside, Elías would spend an extra five minutes searching for his shoes until Harry pointed at them. Elías would just laugh, put them on, keep going with his day and Harry didn’t know why he liked that so much but he _did._

He also liked that Elías actually listened to him? When Ron came over to sleep, Harry had told him that he would use the living room for a movie, to show Ron what it was and when Elías left, he’d put a box of microwave popcorn and some candy on the coffee table, along with instructions for the VCR and how his worked. Harry had stared at the instructions for a moment while Ron put on his pajamas and all he could think of was how lucky he was that someone like Elías had been the one to have… a little bit of sympathy for an orphan like him.

When Harry said _I’m uncomfortable with him here today_ on a summer stormy day, Elías had told Snape to leave. The man’s face had crisped and he’d glanced at Harry briefly but otherwise obeyed, walking out of the house through the chimney. When Harry said, _I don’t want to go to therapy tomorrow, can I have another week?_ Elías had agreed and told him that he’d eventually go, but if he felt pressured, then they’d take their time. When Harry said _I hate peas_ or _This song is giving me a headache_ or _I don’t want to be around people today_ , Elías would listen.

And maybe – maybe Harry cried about it once or twice, looking at the furniture in his room that had been put together but Remus and Elías and _Snape_ , of all people. Maybe he sat by his window and watched the sea with Hedwig in his lap and thought about how summers wouldn’t feel sad anymore. And maybe, when he finally had to guts to go to therapy, with Elías sitting in the waiting room, he hadn’t felt so afraid to speak up about everything that he felt, everything that he could _recognize_ he felt. It was hard – it was _very_ hard. But when he came out of that room, Elías was there. And when they got home, Remus was also there. And the three of them had takeout in the garden, and Harry pushed Remus into the pool when the werewolf teased him and poked at him, and he laughed and Elías laughed and Harry didn’t feel like he was stepping on eggshells around adults.

When June was over, it was routine.

He woke up, took Hedwig’s water and moved downstairs to dump it and refill it, yawning hard. Harry walked over Elías’ boots by the chimney and, when he got to the kitchen, he paused.

“Er… hi?” he blinked hard.

“Potter,” Snape glanced at him, making breakfast and _really_ , Harry shouldn’t be used to it by now, but he was. “Elías woke you up?”

“No,” he yawned again, moving to fill Hedwig’s water supply. “Uh, woke up on my own. Why’re you here?”

“Lesson,” he hummed and Harry blinked hard, turning to look at the blur that was Snape. “Dueling lessons.”

“Oh,” Harry couldn’t believe Pansy had been right. _Again_. “You’re teaching him?” he asked, skeptic.

“Yes, he asked me to,” Severus rolled his eyes. Harry caught that.

“Why didn’t Remus offer?” Harry asked, slightly bitter. Remus hadn’t been around in a day or two but Snape was _always_ here until Harry kicked him out. Sometimes he did it just because he had the power to and it was _so_ satisfying to see the annoyance in his face. Sure, he’d fail potions next year but _what the hell_? Why not enjoy his summer to the full?

“Because Lupin can’t fight,” Snape snorted and Harry huffed.

“I bet he can,” he replied.

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew how easily I used to disarm him,” Snape smirked.

“I bet Sirius could,” Harry narrowed his eyes and then smirked back when the man’s hand crisped. “Sirius surely could beat you.”

“Black can barely _stand_ —”

“Smells wonderful!” Harry and Snape heard, the both of them quickly stopping their bickering and turning to see Elías walking in, ready for the day, hair in a braid and wand holster at the ready. Harry blinked, surprised.

“Are you going somewhere?” Harry asked.

“Yes, actually,” Elías nodded, leaning against the counter and brushing Harry’s hair back, the boy closing his eyes and enjoying the touch. Elías was so touchy-feely and Harry was a bit embarrassed by how much he enjoyed the hugs, the hair brushes and the pats Elías gave him. “Today Sev and I are going to Bluehill to do some dueling practice. And also help Corban move his things back to his home. We’re having a huge clean-up and all, so I’ll probably be gone all day. Is that alright or do you need me home earlier?”

“S’fine,” Harry assured, eyes fluttering open again. “What’s Bluehill?”

“Where Sirius grew up,” Elías told him and Harry’s eyes went wide.

“Wait, wait, what?!” he gasped, hands moving to grip Elías’ arm. “Where is it?! What is it?!”

Elías laughed, “It’s a small wizarding town, Harry. I’m pretty sure Neville lives there? I think, I _think_ ,” he quickly interjected as Harry’s eyes widened.

“The Longbottom’s do live there,” Snape said and Harry turned to him. “As well as the Greengrass family. And some of the Black, still.”

“What?” Elías looked surprised. “Wait, who?”

“The Malfoy’s have a summer home there, did Narcissa not tell you?” Snape cleaned his hands with a kitchen rag, approaching Elías way too much, _too much_ , and Harry wanted to gag a bit as Elías seemed to not mind _at all_. Ugh.

“Nope, she neglected to. I did hear about Avery’s wild vacationing in Greece, though,” he rolled his eyes. “Will we meet them there?”

“Mhmm,” Snape then sighed, glancing at Harry for a moment. “Theodore will be there as well.”

At that, Harry perked up, moving between the two of them, practically shoving Snape away from Elías with wide eyes, “If Theo is coming, can I go?!”

“You’d have to ask Corban, kiddo,” Elías told him, laughing. “It’s his house, after all, but I’m sure he’ll let you go. A warning, though – Draco will be there. And I know you two don’t get along but _please_ , please, Harry, I _beg_ of you; be _nice_. Do not antagonize him. If he says anything, just – just ignore him, please?”

Harry made a face, scrunching up his nose and holding onto Hedwig’s water a bit tight. He hated Draco Malfoy but… Theo hadn’t responded to any of his letters and Harry was a bit worried. So maybe – maybe it was fine to endure Malfoy for a bit.

“Alright, I’ll ignore him,” Harry finally said.

“Thank you,” Elías smiled, patting his shoulder and it was such an addicting gesture that it was insane. “Go get ready, then. We’ve to go to Severus’ first for the lesson and then we can go to Corban’s, hmm? But again, asking is _polite_.”

“You didn’t ask me if _he_ could come to _my_ house,” Snape spoke up as Harry walked off but when Harry turned, he saw Elías giving Snape begging eyes.

“Sev, come _on_ , he’s just a –”

“Oh, I _hate_ you.”

“No, you don’t,” Elías grinned and Snape sighed, moving a hand to pull on Elías’ ear, the man laughing as he slapped his fingers away.

“I’m inviting a Potter into my home. For _you_. You owe me –”

“I’ll get you something in Les Ardennes, hmm?” Elías poked his chest.

And lo and behold, Harry saw _Snape’s lips twitch up_. It was disturbing.

“I thought I was the one supposed to take you there.”

“Mmm, I’m not ungrateful. I think I can get you a gift or two when we go.”

“You mustn’t –”

Elías lifted a finger, pressing it against Snape’s lips and as much as Harry hated Snape, he had to admit that he did act differently with Elías. Instead of scowling or barking at him and yelling like a maniac, the potioneer seemed to relax and sigh, hand moving to grab Elías’ wrist.

“I mustn’t, I mustn’t, but I will,” Elías murmured, smiling tenderly, the way he was supposed to do with Remus but… well, Remus apparently didn’t reciprocate. Harry _was_ a bit disappointed with that. Because maybe then Snape wouldn’t be so confident to touch Elías’ _face_ like Harry had seen couples do. Ugh.

“I’m only letting Potter into my home because of you,” Snape said quietly. Double _ugh_.

“Once again, I seem to be the best influence in your life, hmm?” Elías smirked.

“Does Lupin not count as a good influence?” Snape cocked an eyebrow.

“Absolutely not, he’s a Gryffindor.”

And if Harry wasn’t stunned by now, this truly did it, because Snape _laughed_. His face changed and twisted and morphed into – into a _smile_ and he let out a sound that was a _laugh_ but Snape didn’t _laugh_! Or _smile_! The world was coming onto an end. Harry was witnessing the apocalypse in the kitchen. He knew the end was coming now and, with that, he walked off. Before he could see any other disturbing imagery.

So Harry got ready, feeding Hedwig and cleaning his room, making his bed, getting dressed and putting on his shoes, walking downstairs and smelling breakfast done. His stomach rumbled, traitorous as it was, and he begrudgingly sat on the dinner table to eat Snape’s food. And it was good, because of _course_ it was.

“Honestly, I do think I’m ready to start dueling for real,” Elías spoke up and Harry looked at him, frowning. Had they not been dueling?

“No,” Snape replied, nonchalant, sipping his mug of tea and Elías groaned.

“ _Seeeev_ –”

“You’re not ready,” Snape insisted.

“I need _some_ offensive spells, Sev,” Elías grunted. “Last time Carrow –”

“You have not learned nearly anything, Elías. We still need to finish shields. We still need to finish polishing your stance. You are not ready for offensive spells. Defense, accuracy and stamina go first, these are the _basis_.”

“Stamina?” Harry suddenly asked, surprised, frowning at the potioneer. “How do you _build_ magic stamina?”

“The same way you build physical stamina,” Snape replied, cocking an eyebrow at Harry. “You were supposed to learn this with Lockheart but – we both know how that went.”

“Ugh. Yes,” Harry rolled his eyes.

“I’m very, very glad I didn’t join the staff last year,” Elías snorted.

“You would’ve hated him, too,” Harry said, glaring at his perfectly cooked eggs. “He was so full of himself. Quirrell may’ve been boring _and_ have had in the back of his head a piece of Voldemort’s soul but at least he wasn’t the _worst_ Defense Against the Dark Arts professor to ever exist at Hogwarts.”

“Yikes,” Elías’ eyebrows rose and Snape looked at Harry.

“You hate Lockheart more than Quirrell?” he frowned.

“Well, yes,” Harry blinked at him, frowning deeply. “I mean, he always tried to make it seem like uh, he was the best? Like he and I were friends. He kept trying to pull me into it, like I liked being _famous_ or something. He was so annoying about it, kept talking to me about being the _great Harry Potter_ , as if I didn’t hate it. I wanted to punch him.”

Snape stared, watching him with a strange look which Harry ignored and Elías finished his coffee and stood, humming, starting to clean up the plates by hand. He did this often, Harry had discovered. He did things by hand that he didn’t need to, like a muggle. And Harry didn’t really understand, eyes on his back, but he could respect it.

“Lockheart,” Snape began and Harry glanced at him, wondering why he was insisting on the man. “I thought you two got along until… the end of the year.”

“What? No!” Harry huffed. “He was arrogant and his head was empty.”

“But he treated you –” Snape was cut off by Harry, who glared now at him.

“I don’t like to be treated _special_ ,” Harry told him, watching Snape’s eyes boring into him but he didn’t care. Not here, where Elías could kick his ass out of the house if Harry so much as lifted a finger. Not here, where Harry knew he was _safe_. “I don’t like it. I know you think I’m an arrogant spoiled brat but I’m _not_. And if you ever tell me I strut or do whatever I want just because I know I won’t get into trouble, then you’ll only be talking to yourself.”

“ _Potter_ –” Snape began with a hiss but immediate, Elías turned.

“ _Hey_!” he snapped, Snape’s shoulders curling at the call and Harry realized the man had almost stood up. “What is this? Huh?” he walked over, hands on his hips, looking between Harry and Snape. “We can’t even have breakfast in peace?”

“He started it,” Harry told Elías rapidly.

“It doesn’t _matter_ who started it,” Elías told him, actually scolding him and Harry glared at the plate. “I don’t think you two understand; I don’t want you fighting. If you think you two need to shout at each other, then you swallow it down and walk away. You’re a thirteen year old boy and you’re a _thirty-three_ year old man. Whatever grudges you have, you will not solve it by fighting. And that goes especially for _you_ , Severus.”

“I didn’t say _anything_ ,” Snape hissed, turning to Elías.

“You were about to,” Elías replied, making Snape narrow his eyes. “Say his name.”

“ _What_.”

“Say his _name_ ,” Elías told him, hand on the table and Harry couldn’t believe that the person who actually faced Snape would be half his height and just as frightening when angry. “He has a name. You keep calling him Potter. Maybe if you called him Harry, you’d finally break the connection you’ve made, hmm?”

“You mean my father,” Harry spoke up and Snape’s eye _twitched_.

“Harry, please, let him,” Elías lifted a hand and Harry’s jaw clicked as he shut his mouth, looking at Snape, who was… angry? Harry couldn’t really tell. “Severus. Say his name.”

“I can’t,” he gritted his teeth, glancing quickly at Harry before Elías sighed.

“Severus, this is for _both_ of you,” he told the man.

“I _refuse_ ,” Snape stood, abruptly and Elías moved in front of him before he could exit the house. “Elías –”

“Harry, could you please leave?” Elías spoke up softly and Harry blinked, surprised that _he_ was the one being asked to exit. He wanted to dispute it for a second – wanted to antagonize Snape and make him lose his marbles. Harry wanted to make him as angry as Snape had made him but a single glance at Elías had him realizing that Elías would be _disappointed_ in him if he disobeyed.

Harry walked away – or well, pretended to. He went towards the hallway and quickly pressed against the wall, hidden right next to the arc leading to the living room, listening in.

“Say his damn fucking name, Severus.”

“I _can’t_.”

“Why?”

“Because _she_ chose it. And I hate it, I hate it, I _hate_ that if I say it, I’ll be reminded of her, and the – the fact that she’s –”

“ _Sev_.”

There was silence, for a moment, Harry staring at the wall with his heart in his throat. Who were they talking about? His mother? Had Snape known her? Had he hated her as much as he hated his father? What had _happened_?

“Sev, this is _killing_ you,” Elías murmured.

“You wanted me to be here –”

“Yes! Yes, I do want you here! I want you around!”

“But I _can’t_ when _he_ is around, Elías, I _cannot_.”

“Sev –”

“Elías, do not beg me.”

“I will. I’ll beg you –”

“He’s a _Potter_ , he looks like _him_ –”

“And he always will! Sev – Sev, _sol_ , look at me – honey, look at me?”

There was silence for a moment and Harry dared to glance in, seeing Snape’s hands limp at his sides and Elías’ fingers cupping his jaw gently. The sight was ghastly to Harry for a moment, his hatred for Snape burning because he didn’t _deserve_ to have Elías like him. He didn’t deserve the tenderness Elías gave to Remus and his friends and _him_. Elías was a good man and Snape was an _ogre_ and it didn’t matter that he felt sad – let him _feel_ it. Let him be miserable the way he’d made others miserable.

“Severus,” Elías spoke, close to the other professor. “Do you remember what Doctor Ahuja said? About names?”

“Names have power,” Snape rasped out, eyes closed, forehead falling on Elías’. “Names… take power from you. Such as Voldemort. Or Alerina. Or…”

“…go on?” Elías nodded, thumbs stroking his cheeks, encouraging.

“…James,” he finally scowled and Harry wanted to break his nose, trying to breathe quietly. He hated that man. He _hated_ Snape. He didn’t know what Elías was trying to do because Snape would _never_ call Harry by his name, he’d never –

“Say it.”

“Harry.”

Harry froze, eyes wide, hand over the archway as he saw Snape breathe it out. Elías’ eyes went soft and he brushed back Snape’s hair, smiling softly as Snape’s eyes opened. Harry watched, stunned.

“You did it,” Elías whispered. “It has no power over you now.”

“That was torture,” Snape croaked, hands gripping Elías’ wrists but not pulling him away. “That was _torture_ , Elías.”

“But it has no more power over you. Doctor Ahuja told you –”

“I _know_ , I just –” he looked frustrated, grunting. “Not in front of the _kid_.”

“That’s why I told him to leave, Sev.”

“I know, I _know_. Bloody hell, he probably thinks I’m shouting at you.”

“You’ve mistreated him for a long time, Sev. He’s got a reason to distrust you and think you mean harm to others,” Elías scolded softly and Harry couldn’t believe that Elías was defending him even though he wasn’t there – or well, supposed to not be there, listening in. “Give him time. And work on him, too. Let him be angry, let him see at his own pace that you don’t mean any harm.”

“I don’t _care_ about what he thinks,” Snape scowled.

“Liar,” Elías told him softly and Harry blinked hard, hearing his own heartbeat way too loud. “You do. You care _so much_. That’s why you’re awful to him. You want him to hate you for the wrong reasons so he won’t hate you for the right reasons. We’ve talked about this before, Sev, you can’t fool me.”

“You’d get along with my damn therapist,” Snape sighed.

Therapist?! Snape was seeing a _therapist_?

“I probably would. From what you’ve told me, she’s a very smart woman,” Elías chuckled, stepping closer and Harry recoiled before he realized that Elías was kissing his _cheek_ , not his lips. Thank God. Thank _God_. Harry would’ve been _scarred_ for life. “How do you feel?”

“Like you ripped out my insides,” Snape sighed, head tilting back to watch the ceiling. “…and set them back in right.”

“Say it again?” Elías gripped Snape’s tunic, eyebrows up.

“Harry,” Snape spoke his name and Harry felt his stomach clench. He didn’t know how he felt about all of this. “Harry Potter. May I stop now?”

“Yes,” Elías smiled, patting his chest. “I’m proud of you.”

Snape’s face warped for a moment and Harry watched the strange emotions running through it but he couldn’t pinpoint which one was which.

“…I’m…” he began slowly, sighing, turning to look at Elías. “I’m proud of myself, as well.”

“Good, you should be,” Elías insisted. “Once more?”

“Harry,” Snape said easily this time and Harry pinched himself. How – what the hell had just happened? “Happy?”

“Thoroughly,” Elías told him, grinning, and Snape smiled and – alright. Enough. Harry had enough.

He walked back to his bedroom, swallowing hard, his mind reeling and he remembered that night in Sevilla, where Elías told him that Snape was a different man when he was alone with him. He could see it now – not that he _trusted_ Snape but… it was weird. He needed time to digest it. Hopefully, at the very least, he’d have this entire summer to get used to the potioneer’s presence around the house.


	5. Doctor's Orders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. Somehow, this chapter was a bit complicated for me to write? I've been struggling with showcasing the progress the Slytherins are making, while also trying to make it organic and natural. I hope this shows - and also shows some of the development of Elías' friendship with them, as well as some Corban stuff and lore. Also, my biggest inspiration for Severus Snape, as you all know, is fucking Mr Darcy and my partner sent me once a video of his most awkward moments, saying "Snapecore". I love my girlfriend very very much.
> 
> Trigger Warnings for this Chapter:  
> \- Mention of Corban's struggles with alcohol, very mild  
> \- Mention of the fight Theo and Harry were in  
> \- Mention of Regulus' death  
> \- Mention of misogyny and Lily Potter dunking on Snape for it (insert 'I love this song' gif)

Breakfast, fortunately, did not set the tone for the rest of the day and Elías made sure of it, because the moment Harry was called back into the living room, the man looked bright-eyed and optimistic, hands on his hips, smiling at Harry. It was frankly hilarious to Harry, because Elías was the picture of a sunny summer’s day and Snape beside him was still dressed for a funeral and sour-faced. Yet when Harry walked in, Elías wrapped an arm around his shoulders and gently squeezed.

“Sev?” he called, turning to the potioneer and Harry glared at Snape while Snape watched him back, eye twitching. “What do you have to say?”

Snape took a deep breath and rubbed his temple, “I would prefer if you _behaved_ while in my house… _Harry_ ,” he said through gritted teeth.

And _oh_ , how Harry wanted to ruin his fun. Tell Snape to call him Potter and ruin his day, his progress, that strange moment that he’d had with Elías. He wanted to break any and all intimacy and trust these two had because he knew, he _knew_ that Snape would break it and hurt Elías and show himself as the royal git he truly was.

But.

“I will,” Harry ended up saying, and only because when he looked at Elías, he realized that he didn’t want to disappoint him or make him sad. “I’ll behave.”

“Very well,” Snape grunted before slipping through the chimney and Harry turned to Elías, giving him a sour look.

“I don’t like him,” he stated, as if it needed to be said. “But I want to see Theo.”

“Understandable,” Elías said softly, hand brushing Harry’s hair back. “I… have to warn you, Harry. There people were Deatheaters, before. And they’re still recovering from that mentality, from that… cult-like mindset. They will not welcome you with open arms, they did not welcome _me_ with open arms, yeah? They’re Slytherins, they… are mistrusting.”

Harry frowned at him, “Why do you hang out with them, then?”

Elías’ face changed into something Harry couldn’t interpret and he watched the Astronomy professor as he seemed to try and put into words how he felt.

“…remember how I told you that I didn’t have a good time at Hogwarts?” Elías chose to ask, instead, and Harry gave a slow nod. “It wasn’t just… the other Houses that made it terrible. It was my own House, in Slytherin. I was very much not welcome – and at your age, I was very sad and weak and a spineless coward. Now that I’m older, I admit that I – I do want friends that… er, I guess are in the same wavelength as me?” he rubbed his jaw, shrugging. “I like them. And I know it’s strange because I’m a muggleborn and younger and absolutely not rich but hey, they’re pretty fun once you get to know them.”

“I just –” Harry frowned, not wanting to make Elías sad or angry. “I… think they’re not good people.”

“Ah,” Elías seemed to understand him, more or less. “They haven’t been. They don’t have a history of being tolerant or friendly. You’re justified.”

“Then how did you even come to be their friend?” Harry asked, flummoxed.

“Through Severus,” Elías replied softly and Harry just frowned deeper. “You don’t have to come, Harry. If you do not feel safe with them, I understand. I can try –”

“I don’t get it,” Harry told him, feeling so utterly lost. “They – they didn’t just do bad things, they did _bad things_ , Elías, I – I don’t – how can you be their _friend_?”

Elías’ face was open now and Harry could see every emotion running through his stormy blues, where the eye of the hurricane was just a downpour of pity and sadness.

“Because things need to change, Harry,” Elías whispered, hand moving to his shoulder, making sure Harry’s greens met his eyes. “Someone needs to change things as they are right now.”

“What do you mean?” he whispered.

“Could I explain it to you after all this?” Elías asked, making Harry hesitate. “I promise I’ll explain tonight but I think it’s best if you meet them first, yes?”

“Alright,” Harry sighed and got a little ruffle of his hair for his troubles, which admittedly did make him smile. “Does the uncomfortable rule apply today?”

“Absolutely,” Elías nodded firmly, face serious. “If you feel uncomfortable, say the word and I get you out, Harry.”

“Thanks, Elías,” he relaxed, watching his guardian step back.

“And on the other hand,” Elías spoke up, giving him a small smile. “If you’re having _too_ much fun, you can go back again, as soon as they make another get-together, hmm?”

“We’ll see,” Harry replied, making Elías laugh.

“Come on, let’s get to Spinner’s End,” Elías chuckled.

The two stepped through the chimney together and the difference between El Rompido and Snape’s home was absurdly evident from the first minute. Elías stepped out easily, already knowing his way, apparently, but Harry stayed for a moment, not surprised that Snape’s house was this dark, this gloomy, this depressing.

It was raining.

“Oh, hey, Harry!” Corban greeted as he walked into the room, not wearing his outer robes, simply in a wizarding red shirt and some trousers. He was barefoot, too. “I didn’t know you’d come!”

“Theo is coming so… I felt a little better,” he confessed, seeing Elías step into the kitchen as he looked around.

One thing this house did have in common with Elías’, though, was that there were _so_ many books. There was an entire wall that was just shelves and when he heard voices in the kitchen belonging to the two professors, he began to wonder just when Elías had begun to come to this house. Didn’t they hate each other, at the beginning of the year? Seamus had told him in the Common Room that Elías had nearly had a physical fight with him.

And now –

“No, no, come on! You need to show me, I’m sure they look great!” Elías pulled at Severus’ arm, out of the kitchen and the potioneer rolled his eyes.

“They’re _brown_ , Elías. I _killed_ them,” Snape grunted, letting Elías drag him towards the garden doors. “And it’s raining, too, do you wish to put mud everywhere on my floor?”

“The famous Severus Snape killed the hydrangeas? I don’t believe it,” Elías laughed, turning to look at him. “Come on, where’s your green thumb? Věra would have your hide.”

“Do not bring Věra up,” Snape pulled on his ear and Elías laughed, rubbing the spot. “She would murder me if she knew.”

“Are you two ready, then?” Corban asked, hands on his hips and Harry looked at him and his bright face. “Because I’m ready to just… turn my entire house upside down.”

“And life,” Elías added, poking his chest. “Did you get the letter by post?”

“Yes, I did,” Corban nodded and Harry wondered what the hell they were talking about. “It was uh, interesting, but they accepted me? Some man named Aiden Roberts said he’d be the one helping me, he’s been… quite nice to talk to, to be honest.”

“So you feel good about it?” Elías asked softly, looking concerned.

“Yes, I – I do, for once,” he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m going this Friday.”

“Would you like me to go with you? Accompany you, pick you up, not like, _go_ ,” Elías suggested and Corban hesitated.

“Not pick me up but definitely help me get there? Just – in case,” he winced.

“You got it,” Elías smiled, patting his arm. “Now put on your shoes, you animal, and let’s do this. I learned a few cleaning spells for that house.”

“Am I going to have to clean, too?” Harry asked, wrinkling his nose. “Because I don’t have any magic.”

“Of course you’re expected to,” Snape cocked an eyebrow and Harry glared at him as the professor leaned in, smirking. “With a _toothbrush_.”

Corban laughed and Elías rolled his eyes, elbowing him as Harry huffed, “No, Harry, you’re alright, kiddo. You can go explore Bluehill with the rest of your friends.”

“Friends?” Snape asked, frowning. “I… didn’t know they were considered _friends_ to him.”

“They’re my friends,” Harry said, defensively, stepping a bit forward with eyes on Snape. “Except Malfoy, they’re my friends.”

“Good,” Corban interrupted, patting Harry’s back, making him look with surprise at the man. “Because I’ve heard Theo tell good things about you. And what you did for Pansy.”

“He got into a _physical fight_ ,” Snape hissed at Corban, who simply blinked at him.

“He punched a racist,” he deadpanned.

“In a school environment, might I remind you,” Snape sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Where it could get him _expelled_ –”

“Not his brightest moment, yes, yes, we all know,” Elías cut in, pulling Harry towards the chimney. “Could we go already?”

“Please, yes,” Corban sighed, looking out the window at the storm gathering, stronger and stronger. “I’ll go get my shoes and bags.”

“I’ll get your bags,” Elías quickly said, moving with him deeper into the house, leaving Harry with Snape in this depressing living room. There was a stain on the floorboards near the kitchen door and Harry stared at it, pretty sure that it’d been blood before. It wouldn’t surprise him if the professor lived in a haunted house – or if he’d killed someone himself. Snape seemed the type.

“Are you adjusting?”

Harry blinked, looking up at the professor, who seemed curious and reserved. Harry didn’t know when he’d suddenly begun to care about his comfort but it was stepping into Uncanny Valley, seeing… not-hatred in his eyes when Snape looked at him. Harry was reminded of this morning, how Snape had changed his mind with some of Elías’ coaxing. How he’d seemed to also know his mum.

“Yes,” he replied, briefly, stiffly. “Elías is good to me.”

“I knew he’d be,” was Snape’s addition and Harry just stared blankly at him. “Why did you decide to come today?”

“Theo,” Harry easily answered, hesitating before also saying, “I know his father’s not nice to him. And he really doesn’t like summers. I know what that’s like so… I thought I could check on him. Talk to him. He’s my friend.”

“I see,” Snape hummed, adjusting his sleeves, watching Harry. “I care about them.”

Harry blinked. Harry stared. Harry wondered in what universe he was, watching Snape say out loud that he care about anyone, _anything_. This summer was weird.

“Draco is is Godson,” Snape explained and Harry snorted.

“That explains a lot,” he mumbled, making Snape’s eyes crisp just as Elías and Corban walked back into the living room, carrying a few bags, with Corban fully dressed now.

“Alright! We’re ready! Let’s go!” Elías said happily, putting some bags in Snape’s arms. “Let’s get to Bluehill.”

* * *

The blast Carrow had left on the wall was gone now, Elías realized as the four of them stepped into the Yaxley Manor. He looked at the spot where it had been, taking a deep breath and remembering that today, they’d be picking up the lessons where they’d left them. Elías wouldn’t just go about without knowing how to defend himself, it’d be alright.

“Forgot how much dust this collected,” Corban mumbled, looking over the furniture. “I think Narcissa cleaned before I left for St Mungo’s, though –”

“It was Elías,” Severus answered, making Corban look over at the Spaniard, gratefulness in his eyes.

“Thank you, Elías,” he murmured.

“It’s no trouble – we’ll get this place back into tip-top shape, yeah?” he grinned at his friend, punching his shoulder gently. “I still think it’s maybe too big for just one person, but we can do this together, hmm?”

“I think we can, yeah,” he gave a lopsided smile.

“Who’s that?” Harry asked, pointing at the painting above the chimney and Elías and Severus glanced at each other before quickly looking at Corban.

Corban, though, only looked mildly sad as Harry asked. He moved closer to the kid and shrugged a bit, “That was my wife, Philippa. Pippa, to her friends.”

“Oh,” Harry mumbled, looking at the beautiful still painting.

“She uh,” Corban rubbed his neck. “She actually saved your mum. Back at war.”

Harry’s eyes widened and he turned to look at Corban, surprised, “What?”

“She was a mole for the Order of the Phoenix,” Corban explained softly, eyes on his wife. “Apparently did so after she’d spoken with Lily, your mother. She convinced my wife to leave the Dark Lord behind and Pippa helped her escape. I only learned this later on, because of the official report but… apparently she was good friends with Lily.”

“Oh…” Harry looked at the painting, face twisting into pity. “Is she…?”

“She’s dead,” Corban said and Harry winced.

“Right,” he mumbled.

“But that’s a thing of the past,” Corban blew out a breath and Elías came over to wrap an arm around his shoulders, shaking him a bit while Severus slapped the top of his head.

“She would be appalled at the amount of dust in the house,” Severus scolded.

“That’s why we’re cleaning today!” Elías laughed, pulling Corban closer. “We’re purging your sins, Yaxley – you’re going to be cleaning it _all_ today!”

“Merlin save me from you two,” Corban laughed and Harry glanced around curiously. “We should open some windows –”

“I’ve been opening windows all morning!” a voice called from the hallway and they all turned to see Avery walking out of a room, his red hair pulled back in a high bun and his usually impeccable clothes peppered with gathered dust. He wore heels because of _course_ he wore heels to clean a fucking house. Elías was amused. “All of ‘em! The air is so stale I can barely breathe! Ugh!”

“We’re cleaning now, aren’t we?” Corban snickered.

“Hell slap it into you!” Avery spoke fast, his accent deep and Elías was having trouble trying to understand it already, Scottish accents his one true weakness. “I don’t – that’s _Harry Potter_.”

The man paused, looking at the kid, blinking hard and Severus grunted.

“Elías is his guardian,” he pointed at the Spaniard. “You know this –”

“This is _so_ strange,” Avery stopped by Elías, giving him an amused little smirk. “Can I call you Daddy now?”

“ _Tobias!_ ” Severus snapped as Elías burst out laughing _hard_ with Avery and Corban, the three of them just absolutely _losing it_.

“Anyway, laddie,” Avery laughed, moving to Harry and glancing over at him. “Wow, you’re the _spitting_ image of your father, huh?”

“So I’ve been told,” Harry replied, absolutely baffled by the wizard, apparently.

“We’re going to have an interesting afternoon, huh?” he turned to Corban and pinched his cheek. “Look’t you! You look so refreshed and even combed your hair!”

“Aw, _Toby_ , don’t,” Corban groaned, slapping his hand away. “Is anyone else here?”

“Narcissa is dragging Lucius around for grocery shopping,” he told them and Harry seemed to tense a little, Elías moving closer to put a hand over his shoulder. Apparently, the boy hadn’t had pleasant encounters with Lucius. Elías was ready to help him out or shut Lucius out, if he had anything unpleasant to say, but Elías was pretty sure that Lucius had stopped that trail of thinking after he’d found out his son had a massive crush on the boy. “And I think Draco and Theodore are still in the gardens? I’m not sure, they were talking about exploring the acres you’ve got filled with trees. You _really_ should get a path in there.”

“There is one already,” Corban rolled his eyes.

“Could I go see Theo?” Harry asked Elías quietly, who blinked at him. He’d thought he’d be reluctant to see Draco but apparently, Theo was enough to have Harry skip over that.

“It’s a bit of a maze, this place,” Corban told Harry before Elías could answer. “But I mean, you can jump out the window to the side over there and go around it to find the back.”

“Is that _safe_?” Elías asked, eyes wide.

“We did it all the time,” Corban laughed and Harry seemed to shrug before walking over to the open window, looking out and simply slipping outside, making Elías sigh, arms crossing. “We could’ve also showed him the front door –”

“Windows are more fun,” Avery snickered before elbowing Elías. “So! Daddy Eli, huh?”

“Please, don’t call me Daddy,” Elías begged, laughing into his hand. “Gods, Avery.”

“You’re right, you’re more of a twink,” Avery hummed.

“I would rather shove my face into a burning fire than listen to this conversation anymore,” Severus stated firmly, gritting his teeth and Avery laughed.

“Alright, alright, let’s try and make a plan for cleaning, hmm?” he replied, making Corban nod.

Elías realized pretty soon just _how_ big the Manor was, as soon as they all cleaned the living room and sat down around a map Corban drew temporarily upon the table. The Manor didn’t _look_ big, Elías had seen it from the outside but of course, it was bigger on the inside. Magic made it complex and difficult to understand the layout but Elías couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that this house was very obviously made for a big family, a _big_ family.

The dining hall was designed for so many people, the kitchen was industrial and there were a thousand bedrooms. The more Elías looked at it, the more he felt like Corban just didn’t have a _use_ for this home. He wondered, then, if war hit… would this be where Voldemort would choose to stay? Had this been – had this been the Headquarters?

“Well! I see you’re here!” they heard, looking up to see Narcissa, floating bags behind her. Elías did a double take, seeing her not with her hair loose except for the temple braids she always wore but an intricate, beautiful updo.

“Oh, shit, I forgot,” Corban groaned, rubbing his face as he stood, walking over to her. “Hi, Cissa. Happy anniversary.”

“Oh,” Elías murmured.

“Thank you!” she smiled brightly, kissing Corban’s cheek as Lucius walked over, surprisingly comfortable and dressed down. He, too, wore new braids into his usual hairstyle and Elías couldn’t believe that there was yet another for anniversaries.

“Thank you,” Lucius hummed, looking to be in a good mood as he gave Corban a one-armed hug. “You look good, my friend.”

“I feel good,” Corban replied softly. “I’m going to do that muggle program. And hopefully, it helps.”

“Anything that might help you is good,” Narcissa insisted, grasping his hands with a soft smile. “Any headaches? Sweating? Are you doing good?”

“I am,” Corban assured, nodding, squeezing her hand back as Lucius rubbed his arm. “Honestly, I… I think I’m alright for now.”

“Good. Then you won’t be able to sneak out of cleaning,” she teased, making Corban laugh. “Hello, to everyone else!” Narcissa called as she stepped further in.

“Harry anniversary, you two!” Elías replied, standing and smiling. “I feel like I should’ve brought a gift!”

“Oh, nonsense,” Narcissa laughed, and she truly looked radiant today. Her other hand found Lucius’ and Elías for a moment was reminded of how much these two loved each other. Lucius only had eyes for Narcissa, it seemed, soft and dopey as she looked at him, as if every time she noticed him, it was a miracle of sorts. It reminded Elías of his own parents. “Lucius and I will leave tonight for our fifteenth anniversary to a one-week trip, and as long as you all keep an eye on Draco while we’re out, it’ll be alright.”

“We will,” Severus hummed and Elías, surprised, turned to him.

“Who’s he staying with?” he asked Severus, who glanced at Elías with a cocked eyebrow, amused. “ _You_?”

“Is that so surprising?” Severus said dryly. “He’s my Godson.”

“You’ve quite a hand with children, is all,” Elías smirked.

“He chose to come with me,” Severus rolled his eyes and Elías smiled.

“Aw, he loves you!” he gushed, making Severus sigh. “That’s cute.”

“I’ll make you clean the toilets,” he warned but Elías just laughed.

The chimney lit up and Elías turned to it, face brightening as Felix and Kiera came through with Pansy, whose eyes and cheek sparkled with glittery makeup. Everyone began to greet each other and Pansy, the moment she saw Elías, gave a gasp and rushed to him, hugging Elías tightly.

“I didn’t know you’d be here!” she gushed.

“I am!” Elías patted her shoulder. “Harry is, as well.”

“Is he?!” her eyes went big, looking around.

“Garden, love,” Elías laughed and Pansy quickly rushed through the house towards the backdoor, Felix calling after her to not take off her jacket, since it was a bit chilly. “Hey, Felix.”

“Hello,” he smiled pleasantly at him. “So Potter came today.”

“He did, mainly because of Theo,” Elías nodded. “The two – they’re good friends.”

“So is Pansy, apparently, in… a turn of events,” Kiera said as she moved next to her husband, arms around his elbow. “She was quite sad when you didn’t bring him to our home.”

“He chose not to go, I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable,” Elías explained softly and Felix hummed.

“Well, now he’s here,” he said, then gave a chuckle. “What madness – Harry Potter in Bluehill. There hasn’t been a Potter in this town since his grandfather.”

“Oh?” Elías blinked, surprised.

“Well, they weren’t called the _Potters_ back then,” Kiera explained. “They were known as the Pot – Potdar? Is that pronounced right?” she turned to Felix.

“Mhmm, Potdar,” he corrected softly. “Quite a successful bunch of potioneers and jewelrers. They built a lot of Bluehill’s reputation with it.”

“That’s lovely,” Elías said softly, giving out a smile. “I’m sure Harry would love to know. Did James live here as well?”

“No, they moved to Godric’s Hollow,” Corban said, making Elías turn to him. “They uh, moved when Sirius was kicked out, I believe?”

“Yes, they wanted to give him a new start,” Narcissa stepped in and Elías looked at her, seeing her sad smile. “They cared very much for him.”

“Hope he’s doing well, wherever he is,” Lucius snorted, making Elías blink hard at the man. “Hopefully Pettigrew –”

“Oh, I’ll get him myself,” Avery hissed, eyebrow twitching. “Little sniveling _cunt_.”

“ _Toby_! Language!” Narcissa scolded, making him grunt. “We’re not going to talk about my runaway cousin today, alright? We’re going to clean and be together and make sure this place looks radiant by the time we’re done! As soon as the rest arrive, we’ll begin.”

“How has it been to be a parent, Elías?” Lucius asked him curiously and Elías sighed.

“Well, it’s been – it’s been nerve-wracking, not gonna lie,” he laughed, running a hand through his hair and sighing. “Harry’s thirteen, which honestly makes things easier? He follows rules well and keeps his room orderly and clean. He likes to go outside often and overall is just… just a really nice boy. I’ve had no problems with him,” he winced. “The problem truly comes from… what happened to him, yeah? Just… so much emotional trauma. It’s hard to get him to relax sometimes.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Kiera rubbed Elías’ back. “He’s just a boy –”

“A very dangerous and powerful boy,” Avery cut in.

“But still just _a boy_ ,” Kiera scolded, making Avery roll his eyes. “I think you did the right thing, Elías. And you’ve told us you’ve got a big family, yes? Taking care of a teenager can’t be too difficult for you.”

“So far, it’s been alright,” he told her, giving a small smile. “He’s got good friends, too. And hopefully, he’ll start coming by more often to these little gatherings. I want him to know that he can absolutely be friends with all those Slytherins.”

“Pansy said he defended her,” Felix spoke up, arms crossing. “So I’ll be happy to invite him to our home.”

“That’s good to hear,” Elías grinned at him. “Thank you.”

“He’ll fit in! It’ll be fine, the kid’s a blast,” Corban assured, elbowing Elías. “It’ll be good to have him around, have the children talking to other people who are not in the circle, you know?”

“Yes, that – that would be nice,” Lucius murmured, looking almost striken by that statement and Elías looked around, looked at everyone wearing different guilty faces.

“I know Blaise and Hermione Granger really get along,” Elías spoke up, making them all turn to him. “We could invite her sometime, as well. And Ronald Weasley!”

“A Weasley,” Lucius began dryly but Narcissa elbowed him so hard that he nearly doubled over.

“A Weasley!” she repeated, with a bright smile.

“Ginger club, I guess,” Avery laughed.

“Harry’s birthday is at the end of this month,” Elías explained to all of them, arms crossing, smiling. “I want to throw him a little party and I know he’d love to have a bunch of friends around. I’ll send you all invitations.”

“Will he be alright with that?” Severus asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“I asked him about it the other day, and he’s okay with a party as long as they’re mostly left to their own,” Elías told him. “I’ll just prepare the garden and supervise a bit, it’ll be fine.”

“A muggle home,” Avery snorted. “That’ll be fun for the kids, huh?”

“It’ll just be a birthday party,” Elías laughed, shaking his head. “Muggles and wizards both have them. Everyone celebrates birthdays, they’re universal. So hey – maybe it’ll be a bit strange at first, but I’m sure the kids will get used to it. They became friends out of nowhere in the first place, right?”

“Wasn’t it Blaise?” Corban asked.

“It was Blaise with Granger,” Severus said, nodding. “I saw them in the library during October. And from then on, saw them plenty. They were always in the back.”

Corban’s eyebrows shot up, “A crush?”

“I don’t believe so,” Severus frowned, grunting. “Just friendship. It’s still… intriguing that it was Blaise. I will admit, I thought it’d be Pansy who would move out of the circle first.”

“It makes sense that it was Blaise,” Felix told him. “Sienna is trying her best, after all.”

“Indeed,” Severus hummed.

Elías didn’t know how she was trying her best, with the way she treated outsiders. It didn’t make sense? If she was that hostile, then how come Blaise had been the one reaching out? Was it just growing up without purist rhetoric? Was that the key? What _did_ Sienna think of Hermione? Did she even know that Blaise was friends with her?

Elías didn’t have all the answers, especially since Sienna was still very much not his friend. It showed, too, when the Zabini’s stepped through the chimney – surprisingly, _all of them_. Elías was on the couch and he saw the three Zabini kids enter the room; all of them just as beautiful as their mother, wearing their clothes with impeccable elegance. Blaise saw him first, stoic, glaring mildly at the Spaniard before greeting everyone else, his hand on Allen’s shoulder, the middle child. The youngest, Alessandro, was the only one of the kids with longer hair – luscious, voluminous curls pulled into a perfect ponytail. They looked like royalty, a little bit. Elías wondered where Giorgio was, Sienna’s husband.

“You’re so big!” Narcissa laughed, hands moving to Sienna’s belly, grinning widely. “Oh, I can feel little Lucia kicking! Hello, hello!” she cooed.

“She’s been giving me a hard time,” Sienna scowled, tapping her belly. “ _Bambina, presto dovrai addormentarti qualcosa_!”

“Will you be okay helping us out?” Lucius asked worriedly, moving to rub Sienna’s lower back, the woman leaning into her friend. “I know –”

“Bah! Nonsense, Lucius,” she waved her hand. “I can do it all! I’m only seven months in!”

“ _Only_ , she says,” Lucius chuckled, amused. “In any case, should you need anything…”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” she patted his cheek.

“Sorry – where’s Draco and Pansy?” Blaise asked Kiera politely and she smiled at him, making Blaise smile back.

“They’re in the gardens with Harry, dear,” she said and Blaise paused, turning to Elías, who walked over.

“He’s here,” he nodded. “He’ll be happy to see you.”

“Hm,” was all Blaise said, moving past him towards the back of the Manor, Kiera frowning.

“That was rude of him,” she murmured. “How strange.”

“He doesn’t like me much,” Elías chuckled. “It’s alright, I understand. I haven’t gained his trust yet.”

“Still, it’s – it’s not like him,” she sighed, arm looping around Elías’ elbow when the bells on the front door rang. “That must be James and Vincent!”

“I think we can begin, then,” Narcissa said, pulling back her sleeves, her Dark Mark shining and Elías ignored it, feeling Severus’ eyes boring into the back of his skull. “Everyone, gather around! I may not be Regulus, but I think I can put some order in this.”

There was a general chuckle at that and Elías glanced at Severus, who had a small, sad smile while he disappeared to go answer the front door. Elías leaned against Corban, whispering, “Was Regulus a neat freak or something?”

“Huh?” Corban blinked at him before laughing. “Well, he was a bit. But he was an incredible strategist. I mean,” he looked over the map on the table, shrugging. “He was The Dark Lord’s General, after all.”

Elías nearly choked, eyes wide, seeing Corban step over to talk about something or other related to cleaning but Elías was frozen in place, wondering how – _how_ the _fuck_ had Regulus disappeared if he had been someone so important. Had it been Voldemort himself? Had he been caught betraying the cause as well? Or –

Or had he truly disappeared without trace?

* * *

“You’ve been staring for the past five minutes,” Severus sighed, turning on his heels as looking at Elías in the eye, catching the Spaniard off-guard. “Spit it out, Elías.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, rubbing his nose.

The two of them had been assigned the North side of the Manor, which was mostly composed of a huge ballroom, a huge dining hall, a huge fucking library with dusted and cobwebby shelves and the room they were in – a sunroom with just… dead plants.

The whole Yaxley Manor had the potential to be a gorgeous home but it was _too big_. It was so big, it made him feel a bit strangled as he thought of Corban and how he had to maintain it. No wonder most of it was abandoned. No wonder he felt so alone. If there were more people here, maybe…

“Corban told me when we were in the living room,” Elías began slowly, wincing. “That Regulus was Voldemort’s General?”

“Ah,” Severus seemed to understand as he passed a slow and sure cleansing spell over the stained floor. “Yes. He was.”

“How the fuck does a war General disappear?” Elías breathed. “It sounds fucking suspicious, like –”

“He just did,” Severus shrugged, face stony. “It was a low blow. Started to turn the war around – I frankly believe none of our victories would’ve happened had it not been for Regulus.”

“…was he a good strategist?” Elías asked quietly, surprised, hands on a cracked pot, watching Severus’ back.

“Not good. The _best_ ,” the potioneer replied. “He – he was honestly brilliant. No one could beat him at chess, at anything that might resemble a puzzle. He could see right through it all. The Dark Lord took a liking to him since he was young. Regulus received the Dark Mark at fourteen.”

“Christ,” Elías swallowed, choked up. “That’s…”

“We believed it a priviledge, at the time,” Severus murmured, voice a thread. “He was proud of it. We all were. Regulus… was close to him. And as soon as he was out of Hogwarts, he was under his direct tutelage.”

“Fucking hell,” Elías breathed, horrified. “I didn’t –”

“We started to win only because Regulus guided us through war,” Severus finished cleaning the tiles and turned around to look at Elías, an expression of discomfort in his face. “And we began to lose when he vanished.”

“I didn’t know,” Elías murmured.

“I know,” Severus approached, shrugging, trying to not make a big deal of it, apparently, even though Elías knew that Regulus was a tricky subject. He’d only brought it up because Narcissa had mentioned him today. “He was a good man.”

Elías said nothing, watching Severus, frowning a bit.

“Black talked about him to you, I’m sure,” Severus suddenly said, looking annoyed.

“Actually,” Elías murmured, wincing. “He… really did not want to.”

Severus paused, watching him with surprise flashing over his eyes before he quickly reigned it in, looking away. The two stayed silent for a moment, the only sound being from outside, through one of the open windows – Elías could hear Theo and Vince shrieking and it made him smile a bit, sighing, touching the tip of Severus’ pinewood wand and lowering it a bit, the potioneer watching him.

“I’m sorry I brought him up,” Elías whispered.

“It’s alright,” Severus murmured, one hand moving to rest on Elías’ arm, gently squeezing. “We’re trying to truly… let go of the pain related to him. To all of them. It’s uh,” he cleared his throat. “A recent development.”

“Doctor’s orders?” Elías asked and when Severus nodded, Elías smiled, patting Severus’ chest. “I’m proud of you. You’re following what she’s saying and advising. That’s very good, you know.”

“I know,” Severus rolled his eyes and Elías laughed, hands moving to his face, turning it gently to Elías’, still smiling.

“I mean it, Sev,” Elías murmured.

“I know,” he repeated, lips quirking up a bit, his own hands moving to grasp Elías’ wrists. “Corban is going this Friday to the meeting.”

“He told me,” Elías nodded.

“And,” Severus hesitated, then sighed. “And Will sent me a letter. He is… going to start going to therapy as well.”

“Oh! Oh, that’s so good!” Elías’ face brightened. “Sev!”

“I know, but Will was the easiest one to convince,” Severus told him. “The trouble is with the others. Kiera might be next but Felix wouldn’t be caught dead.”

“Well, the moment they see just how much better you guys are doing, I’m sure he’ll start to change his mind,” Elías grinned.

“Perhaps,” Severus replied, moving back, waving his wand to start cleaning the windows. “Let’s hurry. The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can start your lesson and have only the ballroom in the afternoon.”

“Yes, sir!” Elías grinned, working on the forgotten greens, setting aside all the dead plants and thoroughly cleaning the pots. “You know, it’s amazing that this place has a ballroom. Even Hogwarts doesn’t have a ballroom!”

“Hogwarts has a ballroom,” Severus replied.

“Hogwarts has a ballroom?!” Elías’ eyes widened.

“It’d surprise you, the amount of rooms not in use, locked until further notice. But there _is_ a ballroom,” Severus explained and Elías listened, eyes wide and curious. “Every noble home should have a ballroom.”

“Do the Malfoy’s have one?” Elías questioned.

“Indeed,” Severus hummed. “And very grandiose, I must say. Very… rococo.”

“Ugh, of course. French,” Elías laughed. “Are those charity events done there, then? Narcissa never told me much about them. The Flummox Charity Ball is supposedly like, this enormous thing but I barely know anything of it.”

“She hosts it in the Manor, yes, and it has quite a reputation for being… an extravagant display of affection for helpless children,” Severus recited, looking amused. “A lot of money is moved in that event. A lot of strings, too.”

“Sounds like torture,” Elías snorted.

“Quite so,” Severus sighed. “I was once invited and I don’t think I’ve ever been more out of place in my entire life.”

“That’s because you haven’t had dinner with my family yet,” Elías snickered and Severus’ lips quirked a bit.

“Perhaps so,” he chuckled. “As I’ve said, I do not dance. I do not enjoy parties with strangers. Or big empty venues. Everything about that Ball made my skin crawl.”

“Must’ve been awful, I’m sorry,” Elías offered before taking a deep breath. “I’d only want to go because it – like, not going to lie, I understand that it’s a big, classist, posh British show-off of riches to entertain people that don’t know what to do with their lives. But… you know,” Elías flushed a bit, laughing. “Sounds kind of wild.”

“You want to go because there are ah, _shiny_ things and outdated rules that you want to learn,” Severus spoke bluntly, making Elías laugh. “You’ve never been to such a social gathering. And you’d hate it, I’m sure of it. You’re much too… social and familiar and friendly for it.”

“It feels like something out of a Jane Austen noble, that’s why I want to go,” Elías admitted and Severus paused, then turned to him as Elías held in his laughter. “I want to meet an antisocial rich stranger who judges me at first glance only to madly fall in love with me after three days, but because they’re too awkward or elitist, I reject them in such a manner that they actually change their perspective and I slowly but torturously fall in love with them as well. We kiss at dawn, of course, damn the societal rules that say we mustn’t.”

“Alright, that’s enough Jane Austen,” Severus immediately said, making Elías burst out laughing. “There won’t be any antisocial rich strangers –”

“Right, right,” Elías giggled as Severus took the pots from his hands. “They’ll all be at the Hogwarts dungeons, wondering why they became friends with me, huh?”

“I’m not _antisocial_ –”

“But you _are_ a grumpy and awkward man that looks like you were straight pulled from Pride and Prejudice,” Elías replied, letting him take the pots before poking his chest, smirking. “You’re Mr Darcy, Severus.”

“Because I was brutally rejected by the woman I loved?” Severus asked, eyebrows raising and Elías paused, surprised. “I – I don’t know why I told you that.”

“You confessed?” Elías murmured, not expecting that.

“I was nineteen and about to leave for Czechoslovakia,” he said dryly. “I thought it was romantic.”

“It kind of is… kind of,” Elías winced.

“It was during the reception of her wedding.”

“ _Yikes_.”

Severus shifted his hold on the pots, thoughtful, frowning down at them and brushing away a speck of dirt from the edge of the top one before mumbling, “I told her that I loved her. And she told me that I had… ah, I quote, _‘you’ve got no fucking idea what love is, or you wouldn’t be standing here right now looking miserable at the prospect of my happiness_.’ In retrospect, of course, she was right. It just… took me a while to recognize it.”

“I’m glad you do know now that she was right,” Elías offered softly.

“Mhmm,” Severus nodded, sighing. “I must admit – she looked beautiful in that wedding saree.”

“She married in saree?” Elías smiled widely and Severus’ lips curled a bit.

“Yes, she did. It was a thoroughly Indian wedding – which was to be expected from Potter, after all,” he told Elías, sighing. “I’m glad that at least she was happy in her wedding. I’m glad that… Potter was able to share with her something so important, that she felt connected to his family. She had a very bad time with her own family.”

“I see,” Elías reached over to grab Severus’ arm, gently squeezing. “You’ve grown and changed a lot, Severus. I’m sure she would be proud of –”

“I know,” he sounded strangled. “I… know, Elías.”

“Good,” the Spaniard gave him a smile, then turned to grab some more pots from the floor, stacking them up. “Come on. Let’s get this over with. I’m excited for our lessons and I also want to see the ballroom.”

“Elías.”

Elías paused, straightening up, looking over at Severus, who seemed stuck. Like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. Elías waited, patient, watching the way he opened his mouth a couple of times, then closed it. Then –

“Thank you,” he finally said and Elías said nothing, knowing he had more to say. “For listening to me. Not just about Lily but… about Regulus. And not berating me for the things we both know that I did wrong but – but also speaking of my improvement and – and the way I can still move forward –”

He abruptly cut himself off, taking a deep breath and Elías set the pots on the floor, taking Severus’ and doing the same before he took his hands, squeezing them. Bony, long fingers knocked into each other and Elías had the distant thought that if he tried, he could be a good pianist.

“You’re doing good, Severus,” Elías whispered to him, watching his eyes but Severus stared at the wall behind Elías. Elías didn’t force him to look. “You’re doing _so_ good, _sol_. Trust me. You’ve still got a lot to learn but you’re on the right path. You and Corban and Will, yeah?”

“I hope we are,” he croaked and Elías slid his arms around the man, hugging him tightly. Severus only took a few seconds to reciprocate, arms loose.

“You’re going to be alright, Sev,” Elías told him, speaking against his shoulder as he stood on his tiptoes. “You’re all going to be okay.”


	6. A Different Sort of Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! This chapter comes at 12.45am but because I had so much trouble with Harry's pov. And Gods, I always have trouble with it, but this one was particularly bad for some reason.
> 
> Trigger Warnings for this Chapter:  
> \- Mentions of homophobia  
> \- Mentions of war-typical deaths  
> \- Mention of Severus' inceldom at 16  
> \- Mention of Corban's depression/alcoholism

The sky was bright, open and blue. 

Harry looked up at it for a moment and at the scant clouds from behind his glasses, listening to the sound of Theo and Malfoy behind him, discussing in rapidfire words and he finally took a deep breath before turning to them, Malfoy’s outer tunic shed in favor of wrapping it around the little bunny they’d found nearby, stuck on a few gnarled knots of an old tree. The poor thing was wounded and, immediately, Malfoy had declared that they had to help him. But no wands meant… 

“Your mother is going to kill us, D.” 

“She’s not! We’re helping it!” 

“Are we? I feel like we’re disrupting nature or something,” Theodore mumbled and Harry snorted a bit at the affronted look on Malfoy’s face. 

“It could’ve died!” Malfoy squawked. 

“Circle of life?” Theodore shrugged and Harry gave a laugh as Malfoy’s expression changed into a murderous one. “It looks old, Draco, I don’t know. And don’t bunnies have like, a really delicate heart or something? They’re prone to heart attacks?” 

“Uh, yes? Hermione had one,” Harry explained, making the two Slytherins turn to him. “Apparently, she died because she got scared by fireworks.” 

“Really?” Malfoy frowned, looking down at the old, hurt bunny and he carefully held it closer. “No matter. I’m still going to save it.” 

“Alright,” Theo murmured, reaching over to pet the little bunny when they all saw someone approach – someone familiar, waving her arms frantically. “Pansy!” Theo gasped, rushing to her and Pansy practically threw herself at Theo, almost falling to the dirt. 

“YOU’RE HERE!” She shouted, arms around Theo’s neck and Harry felt a deep warmth in his chest as Pansy turned to him and gave the _widest_ smile he’d ever seen. “Harry!” 

“Hey, Pans – _oof!_ ” 

Harry nearly fell down as well, her arms tight around him and when he looked over at Theodore and Malfoy, the both were grinning at her. Harry flushed, only used to so much affection from people like Ron or Hermione, patting Pansy’s back. Theo hadn’t hugged him, when they’d seen each other. And – and maybe Harry should’ve hugged him? 

“I can’t believe you’re here!” Pansy gushed as she pulled back, her eyes sparkling. “Did you meet Uncle Corban?! Isn’t he _so cool_?!” 

“He’s pretty nice,” Harry admitted, nodding, adjusting his glasses. “Don’t really know him much, though. I’ve seen him on and off? He often comes with Snape.” 

“Yeah, he’s been staying at his place,” Theo shrugged. 

“Could I… ask?” Harry began, hesitant, “About… what’s going on with him?” 

“Oh, um,” Pansy winced. “I don’t want to rattle on him –” 

“S’alright, that’s why I asked,” Harry assured her before Pansy noticed the bundle in Malfoy’s arms, gasping. 

“What’s that?!” She rushed to him and Malfoy gently showed her the bunny. “Oh, that poor thing! What happened?” 

“We helped him out of a few roots,” Theo explained as Pansy petted him gently. “But he wasn’t moving, when we put him down. Like, he’s clearly awake but he just wasn’t moving, so Draco here thought it’d be best to take him home.” 

“There’s a bunch of rabbits in my neighborhood,” Pansy told them both. “They run so fast if you get near them. Maybe it’s hurt!” 

“That’s what I said!” Malfoy nodded. 

“I’m just scared it’s going to bite,” Harry confessed as they all began to walk back towards the Yaxley Manor. “Ron’s owl keeps biting me and I’m really tired of having my hands bleed all the time.” 

He lifted one, sighing, showing off all the band-aids on it. Elías apparently had an infinite supply of them and Harry had been curious about it until he learned just how clumsy the man could be. Almost always he’d hear a Spanish word – most likely a curse – as Elías bumped into things around the house. Mostly his own shoes. 

“Oh, Ron got an owl?” Theo asked, smiling. 

“Pidwigeon,” Harry nodded. “Way too small, so tiny. Can barely carry letters and it’s er, enthusiastic, I’d say?” 

Malfoy went quiet, frowning deeply and Harry glanced at him as Pansy began to talk about that one time an owl broke her window. Harry, though, could see that he’d quickly looked away. Slowly, he spoke up. 

“Malfoy?” He began, ignoring Elías’ begging about ignoring him but he had to know. “Have you seen that owl?” He frowned, because before it was Ron’s, it’d been _Sirius'_. And how could Malfoy know about it? Did he know something about Sirius? 

“My mum’s received a letter or two from that owl,” he said quietly and Harry stared, watching him, wondering why Sirius – what? 

“From Weasley?” Theo frowned, confused. 

“No,” Malfoy replied, eyes on Harry’s. “No, it wasn’t Weasley.” 

Shit. Malfoy knew. But _why_? Why did Malfoy know about Si rius? Why did _Narcissa_ _Malfoy_ receive a letter from – 

“Wait, is this about Sirius?” Pansy asked and Harry nearly tripped onto the dirt, Theo quickly grabbing him by the arm to stop him falling. “It’s the whole Sirius thing, right?” 

“Yes,” Malfoy glared at Harry. “He’s Potter’s Godfather.” 

“Oh,” Pansy murmured. 

“ _Oh_ ,” Theo’s eyes snapped to Harry and the green-eyed boy watched Malfoy, feeling defensiveness and slight jealousy burn in his stomach. 

“How do you know about Sirius?” Harry demanded. 

“How do _you_ know about him?” Malfoy sneered. 

“Alright, alright, we’re not doing this,” Theo quickly moved between the two of them, frowning. “No fighting. Really – Draco, you apologized for the whole Buckbeak thing and Harry, you’re friends with us now. We’re all friends here, right?” 

“He’s not _my_ friend,” Malfoy hissed. 

“Draco!” Pansy murmured, eyes wide. 

“Oh, thank _Merlin,_ ” Malfoy breathed, looking towards the house and they all turned to see Blaise headed over their way. “Someone with common sense, come on –” 

“Wait, no, how do you know about Sirius?” Harry asked him, frantic, and Malfoy turned and glared with cold, grey, Black eyes. 

“He’s my _uncle,_ you _dimwit,_ ” he sneered before stomping towards Blaise. 

And Harry just… short-circuited. He stood there, frozen, Theodore rubbing his back with a sympathetic look as Harry wondered – wait, but how – his father – his mother? Narcissa Malfoy? Had they been siblings? Cousins? _What?_

“Wh – what?” Harry breathed, eyes wide, turning to Theo, who gave a shrug. 

“Draco’s a Black, Harry, I thought you knew?” He frowned. 

“ _What?!_ ” He wheezed. 

“His mother is Sirius’ cousin,” Theo explained slowly. “And she’s Andromeda Tonks’ and Bellatrix Lestrange’s sister?” 

“ _WHAT?!_ _”_

* * *

When lunch began, Elías nor Snape were anywhere to be found. 

Harry sat at the table between Greg and Theo, trying not to stare at Narcissa Malfoy, previously known as _Narcissa_ _Black_ _,_ on the other table. And now that he knew, it was impossible not to see the similarities in them – the nose, the moles, the eyes, the shape of the jaw. Even the shade of her hair. It slammed him with a deep need to talk to Sirius, to send him a letter and ask – ask _how h_ e hadn’t known – 

But again, Harry didn’t know much. And to everyone else, it was evident. 

“Are you alright?” Greg asked him, snapping Harry out of his reverie. Harry turned to him, startled. “Er, the bunny’s gonna be alright, if that’s why you’re like this.” 

“Right, the rabbit,” he mumbled. “Yes, uh – thanks, Greg.” 

The boy nodded, turning back to Vince and Pansy, who were having their own conversation about some dance recital she’d been in. Normally, Harry would at least attempt to listen to her, since he knew her dancing meant a lot to her but… 

“You’re still not believing it, right?” Theo asked, snickering. 

“Shut up,” Harry kicked his leg, mumbling, “I didn’t _know_.” 

“Well, now you do? At least?” Theo brushed some wild hairs out of his face. It’d grown in the time Harry hadn’t seen him and now he was constantly pushing it back. 

“I guess,” Harry sighed, anxiously looking around. “Where’s Elías? Have you seen him?” 

Theo’s face lit up, “Not yet! But I have to uh, ask him for more batteries?” He laughed and Harry gave him a lopsided smile. 

“Did you get a muggle electronic?” Harry asked, laughing. 

“He gave me one, actually,” Theo dug into his pocket and pulled out a Walkman, making Harry stare for a moment, because he was pretty sure he’d seen it in the Shrieking Shack. Had it been a gift Elías had given Sirius? Well, now that he wasn’t around… “I’ve memorized all these songs by now and I’m wondering if he has more?” 

“It’s been less than a month,” Harry said, amused, glancing at Theo. “You really memorized them?” 

“Yeah,” he flushed, grinning wide. “They’re all so _good_! So much heavy drums and guitar, I can’t wait for Hogwarts to start again and keep practicing!” 

“Talking about music,” Pansy spoke up and Harry and Theo turned to her, Vince and Greg as well. “Does Professor Fernández have like, a t _on_ of instruments? Mum said he plays a lot!” 

“He does,” Harry nodded. 

“Right, you’re living with him now,” Vince blinked before grinning. “Means you’ll come more often?!” 

Harry watched him with surprise, not expecting _Vince_ of all people to be excited about him being around. It made him pause for a moment , looking at Pansy, who had hugged him, and Greg, who had tried to reassure him, even at Blaise, who offered him a _smile_ when they’d seen each other. Theo – well. Enough said, Theo was a good friend. 

“I… I guess I am,” Harry offered and when Vince smiled, he felt a little bit like a git, because he hadn’t bothered to learn much about him or about Greg or… Draco, as much as it pained him. The two of them would never get along but Harry liked the others. 

“That’s great!” Pansy said, patting Harry’s arm with a bright smile. “I’ve got a competition in Szeged in two weeks, would you like to come?” 

“In Hungary? I’d – I’d have to ask Elías,” Harry stuttered a bit and he felt Greg gently patting his shoulder. 

“It’s alright, we understand. And we also understand if you… like, have to get used to stuff?” Greg told Harry and Harry felt his breath hitch a little. They did? “You just moved to another country, it’s a lot.” 

“Yeah, it’s _quite_ a lot,” Pansy hummed, chin resting on her knuckles. “I mean, it took me _so_ long to get used to England. And my _mother_ is basically English.” 

“You’ve lived in Hungary all your life?” Harry asked, curious, and Pansy nodded. 

“I basically only come here for like, seeing my friends or to go to Hogwarts,” she shrugged. “My mum’s not even like, fully English? She has citizenship in Hungary. She was born there to British parents but she feels more Hungarian.” 

“For having lived there your entire life, you’ve got a great accent,” Harry told her, surprised, and Pansy gave a smile. 

“Thank you! I was taught both when I was very small, so it was easy – Vince here is the real wonder,” she gestured at him, who immediately went splotchy pink on the cheeks. “He knows English, Ukrainian _and_ Polish!” 

“Whoa,” Harry watched him. “You know all those?” 

“My mum’s Polish,” he shrugged, rubbing his ruddy cheek as Greg nudged him. “And now she lives in Ukraine. I don’t really live with my father much? Just some summers, and he’s in charge of all my school stuff.” 

“They’re not together?” Harry asked before mentally kicking himself. No filter. “Sorry –” 

“Yeah, they divorced,” Vince shrugged. “Not that it was bad, it was just – well, my mum’s gay, so she told me and dad and my dad didn’t want her to be sad stuck in a marriage with a man. He’s dating this really nice woman now, her name’s Paola.” 

“She’s proper nice,” Theo agreed and Harry glanced at him, then at Vince. She left her husband for a woman and… nobody was upset? Harry thought about how Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would react and he was suddenly very, very aware that he had the wrong idea about pure blood wizards regarding the whole gay stuff. 

“But I was uh, born in Poland, yes. I know Polish, and I’m half-Polish,” Vince shrugged. 

“Why are you all in Hogwarts, then?” Harry asked, fascinated. “Doesn’t Poland or Hungary have schools?” 

“Yes, they do – but Hogwarts has, y’know, the prestige, I guess?” Vince frowned. “Mum said I’d have more opportunities if I went to Hogwarts.” 

“Same here,” Pansy sighed. 

“As did mine, but both my parents are English,” Malfoy spoke up and Harry turned to him with a frown. “We Malfoy’s are French? For the most part? But… it’s a strange mix, I suppose. I almost went to Beauxbatons but mum wanted me to go to Hogwarts. She met father there.” 

“My parents met at Hogwarts, too,” Greg gave a wide grin. “And I like Hogwarts!” 

“I do, too,” Pansy grinned. “It’s given me my best friends!” 

“We would’ve met either way,” Theo laughed and Harry noticed how Blaise was utterly quiet during this whole conversation. Food hadn’t been served yet so the boy was simply looking at his friends, following the conversation without participating. 

“I’m glad Professor Fernández took you in,” Pansy told Harry and the boy gave her a shy smile as Theo’s arm came around his shoulders. 

“Yeah! Now we get to see you more, Harry!” He grinned. 

“How delightful,” Harry heard Malfoy mumble to himself and he tried not to be happy at the prospect of annoying him — and failed miserably. 

“Kids!” 

They all looked up, seeing Narcissa approach their little secluded table in the gardens, her smile bright and _Merlin,_ she did look like Sirius, especially when she grinned. Harry missed him so much, so _much._

“Lunch is almost ready, how are you all doing with the heat?” She asked, hand moving to Malfoy’s hair, gently brushing it back. Malfoy looked at her adoringly and Harry felt his throat close up, trying not to think of his own mother. 

“We’re doing fine, Narcissa!” Theo grinned at her. “Are Professor Fernández and Snape cooking? Is that why they’re not here?” 

“Mhmm,” she nodded, glancing at Harry. “And how are you doing, Harry?” 

“M-me?” Harry stuttered, not expecting her to talk directly to him. “Um –” 

“He knows about Sirius,” Malfoy spoke up and Harry glared at him. 

“Of course he does,” Narcissa told Malfoy gently. “He helped him escape, I’m pretty sure.” 

Harry gaped, “Wait, you noticed —” 

“I saw you two come in,” she cocked an eyebrow. “I’m observant, Harry. And I heard that he was captured. Elías knew that he was innocent and you were in the middle of it all. I had guessed if you didn’t know, at the very least Elías would tell you.” 

“Oh,” Harry mumbled, a bit embarrassed. “You… look a lot like him,” he whispered. 

“We’re cousins,” Narcissa chuckled, hand moving to lift Malfoy’s chin up, looking at her son with unabashed affection, her thumb stroking his cheek. “I’m a Black. And so is my son, despite having only one surname.” 

“You –” Harry hesitated. “Um… Tonks helped in my case. In CPS.” 

Narcissa turned to him again, eyes bright, “Little Dora? Nymphadora?” 

“She prefers Tonks,” Harry explained and Narcissa laughed. 

“Of course,” she grinned widely. “I’m glad she was able to help. Her mother – she’s my older sister.” 

“Oh,” Harry murmured. “I knew she uh, was related, I just didn’t know –” 

“I’m sure you were kept in the dark about a lot of things,” she said, understanding, and Harry slowly nodded. He felt Greg’s big hand rubbing his back and to be honest, Harry could get used to it. Greg was actually a very soothing presence once they were friends. 

“I don’t know much, I’m sorry,” Harry murmured. 

“Don’t be, it’s not your fault,” she said, understanding, and Harry wondered how someone was gentle as her could raise a git like Malfoy. “I’m very glad to see you joining us today. Elías has told all of us that you’re adjusting well?” 

“I am,” Harry confessed quietly. “He’s – he’s very good to me.” 

“I thought he would be,” she gave a small smile. “Don’t be afraid to ask me and my husband for anything, alright?” 

“Mum,” Malfoy nudged her and Narcissa looked at him, smirking. 

“I’m sure Draco would _love_ to have you over more often,” she told Harry. 

“ _Mum!_ ” Malfoy flushed and Harry gave a laugh. 

“Thank you, ma’am,” he told her politely. “I’ll – I’ll try and come more often this summer.” 

“Delightful!” Narcissa said, patting Malfoy’s head. “Be nice, alright?” 

“I’m always nice,” he grumbled and Blaise snorted, finally speaking. 

“Of course you are, Draco,” he smirked, patting his cheek and Draco nearly bit his hand, making Pansy and Vince laugh. 

“Play nice, boys,” Narcissa chided with a chuckle. “Lunch will be up soon.” 

With that, she left to go back to their other table, hands on Blaise’s mother, who had her other two kids at the sides. Harry didn’t know why Blaise’s brothers didn’t join them but he supposed it was like Ron not wanting Ginny to join in on their hangouts. 

“You’re exhausting,” Blaise told Malfoy. 

“I’m a _delight_ and you adore me,” Malfoy replied. 

“Just treat Potter nicely,” Blaise rolled his eyes. 

“I’m so _hungry_ ,” Theo groaned as he rested his chin over the table, Blaise patting his head. “We’ve been waiting for _hours,_ what’s taking them so long?” 

“Probably making something super complicated,” Harry pointed out, shrugging. “Elías does that a lot.” 

“That’s so strange,” Vince groaned. “Hearing you say his name. He’s _Professor_ _Fernández_ , you know?” 

“It was weird at first,” Harry confessed. “But uh, I see him kind of daily now. He makes dinner and I see him first thing in the morning, so it’s not as strange now?” 

“Do you really live in Spain now?” Blaise asked him and Harry nodded. 

“Is it nice?” Theo murmured, making Harry turn to him, a bit worried at the longing in his blue eyes. Theodore… Harry knew he didn’t have a good home life. It reminded Harry of himself and he wondered if Elías could do anything about it. He knew Elías cared about Theodore. 

“It’s really nice,” Harry told him, smiling softly. “The uh, the sea’s nice. Smells really good. The sound of the waves puts me to sleep in no time and the house is _super_ old. Like, super, _super_ old. He doesn’t mind Hedwig and he says I can get another pet, if I want.” 

“Ooh, what are you getting?” Theodore grinned. 

“Dunno,” Harry lied, shrugging, not ready to tell everyone on this table. “I’ll have to see but it’s nice to… be able to do things I couldn’t?” 

“Yeah,” Theo murmured. “Yeah, like – like when I’m at Draco’s.” 

“Sort of,” Harry said, sympathetic and understanding. “Maybe – maybe you could stay over! Some time,” he suggested, feeling like he’d vomited the words out. 

“I wish,” Theo gave a sad, small smile, looking actually miserable. “My father wouldn’t allow it. If he knew you were here…” he laughed. “I think he’d have a heart attack.” 

Harry frowned, rubbing his nose, “But – but you’re here now, right?” 

“Father thinks the Malfoy’s are still into the purist shite,” Theo shrugged, looking at Malfoy. “That’s why he lets me come with them. He doesn’t know about Professor Fernández or the drums or… any of this.” 

“I’m sorry, Theo,” Harry murmured. 

“S’alright,” he smiled brightly, turning to him with honest happiness. “I’m at least glad you’d want me around! I’m glad we’re friends.” 

Harry reached over and gripped Theo’s shoulder, nodding, smiling back, “I’m glad we’re friends, too, Theo.” 

The Slytherin looked about to say something else, opening his mouth when his eyes went towards the house and he quickly stood, “Professor Fernández!” He called, waving his arm and everyone turned to the Spaniard – except Blaise, of course. “HEY!” 

“Oh! Hey, Theo!” Elías smiled, flour on his cheek and Snape behind him, wand lifted to carry all the food they’d apparently done. It smelled so good and Harry’s mouth watered as Elías approached them. “Hey, you guys! How have you been?” 

“Hey!” Theo’s entire face brightened and Harry wished they could take him with them, to El Rompido. He wished Theo could see the sea and stand on the front seat of the car and feel the wind on his face. 

“Your hair has grown _so_ much, Theo,” Elías laughed, moving a hand through his hair and Harry watched Theo’s face change into the same one Malfoy had given his mother, making his stomach churn. They really couldn’t do anything about it? “It looks nice!” 

“Thank you,” he grinned before lifting the Walkman. “Er… do you have any spare batteries around?” 

Elías blinked, “You used them all already? Wow!” He laughed, “You must listen to it constantly, I’m glad you enjoy it!” 

“I do, I do!” He gushed. “The – the first song is so good and I’ve written down the lyrics and they just –” his cheeks flushed. “Do you have any others?” 

“I knew you’d be here,” Elías grinned. “So yes, I do. I’ll have to go and get you some batteries before the day is over but here,” he dug into his back pocket and set down two cassette cases, watching Theodore’s eyes widen as he took them. 

“ _Songs for Being Fourtee_. Hey! I’m fourteen!” His eyes widened and he turned to Elías with a laugh. 

“I made these two weeks ago,” Elías told him, tapping the other cassette. “They’re made for you, kiddo. So enjoy them. I really hope you do.” 

“For me?” Theo murmured, thumb rubbing over the title of the second one, _Reminders, Good Reminders, For You and_ _Your Friends._ “…thank you, professor.” 

“And to the rest of you,” Elías said, hands on his hips, grinning at the kids. Harry noticed that Blaise’s knuckles were pale as he gripped the table, glaring deeply at Elías, and Harry wondered just _why_ he was so distrusting of him. “I didn’t bring a cake. _But_ Sev and I made dessert, still. And I hope you like it.” 

“Thank you, professor!” Pansy grinned. 

“Can – where did you get one?” Malfoy asked, pointing at the Walkman and Elías turned to him, surprised. “In case it breaks o-or something,” he quickly stuttered, looking away. “I don’t want Theo to lose, uh, his music.” 

“There are some devices you can use to play it out loud for everyone to hear,” Elías offered, smiling, and Theodore’s eyes widened. 

“For real?!” 

“Yeah, I’ll tell Narcissa about it,” Elías assured, ruffling Theo’s hair. “And you, Harry? You doing alright?” He asked, making him nod. “Good. Remember the rule!” 

“Always have it in mind,” he assured, feeling grateful for it. 

“Alright, I’ll bring lunch, then,” Elías walked off and Greg turned to him. 

“What’s the rule?” He asked. 

“If I’m uncomfortable, I’ve to tell him, and I get to leave,” Harry explained. 

“Oh, that’s _great,_ ” Malfoy whined, head dropping on the table, making Har ry glance at him, “My parents tell me discomfort is part of _social rules_.” 

“You’re uncomfortable everywhere, though,” Pansy pointed out, poking his head. “You get so nervous about everything. I think your parents may just want you to get out there and work that nervousness off, D.” 

“Still sucks,” Malfoy bemoaned. “Everything is uncomfortable. Everything makes me nervous. And then I say something stupid and everyone stares at me and I can’t use magic to make the entire Earth swallow me.” 

“Just three more years, mate,” Vince tried to cheer him. 

“Vince, no!” Greg sighed, shaking his head. “He can do it. He’ll grow out of it and be fine. Draco can do anything.” 

“No, I can’t,” Malfoy looked up and glared at Harry, who was surprised that Malfoy was an actually… nervous person? “Because I already say stupid stuff and then he replies to it and makes it worse and then I get a deformed chicken almost killed and – it all just turns into a big mess!” 

“Then maybe walk out of places that make you uncomfortable?” Harry suggested, eyebrows raising. 

“Shut up, Potter,” Malfoy said with no heat, head dropping on the table again and, to Harry’s own surprise, Harry just laughed it off, not taking it as a threat. Malfoy was just a little pathetic, is all, not an actual threat. 

“After lunch,” Pansy began, making Harry turn to her. “Why don’t we go to the hill?” 

Malfoy’s head shot up and he grinned, “Yes! Yes, we should!” 

“The hill?” Harry asked, confused. 

“Has the best sights of Bluehill,” Blaise explained with a hum. “Sunset’s just really nice there. We could hang out there.” 

“It’s – actually, it’s near your grandparents’ house?” Theo told Harry, whose green eyes widened. “They used to live here, you know?” 

“My grandparents?” Harry’s stomach sank a little and he felt his throat close up. “Was… did my father –” 

“I think your father lived here, yeah,” Theo nodded. 

“He did,” Blaise said, making Harry turn to him. “They moved to Godric’s Hollow later on, I think. But I know your father lived here because there’s a picture of him on the Emporium and I remember thinking it was you until I just… realized he had no scar?” 

Harry felt his hands begin to sweat, “Could – could we go? I want to go.” 

“Sure!” Pansy nodded, patting Harry’s hand, making him turn to her. “We‘ll go explore the old house. But you can’t tell Professor Fernández,” she whispered to him. 

“It’s forbidden to go there,” Theo explained when Harry frowned. “The property is closed and off-limits. We don’t know who owns it anymore.” 

“Technically, it should be Harry, hmm?” Blaise remarked. “Isn’t he the direct descendant?” 

“We don’t know,” Theo shrugged. 

“Better to be safe than sorry,” Vince reminded them. “So after lunch, we sneak in.” 

“A summer adventure, yes! Finally!” Pansy laughed, punching the air. “I’ve been waiting for one!” 

Harry grinned at her, feeling Theo lean against his side and, as lunch was server and Harry’s eyes met Narcissa’s on the other table, her smile encouraging, he didn’t feel uncomfortable or out of place anymore. At the very least, for now.

* * *

The kids ran off into town as soon as dessert was finished and Elías looked at Harry worriedly – he saw his laugh, though, and the way he easily talked with everyone except Draco and that made him relax, a small smile on Elías’ lips. 

“He’s a delight.” 

“Narcissa!” Lucius spluttered, eyes wide. 

“Just a child, Lucius,” Narcissa rolled her eyes, looking at Elías. “I want him to get along with Draco. Maybe then he won’t have such a hard time at Hogwarts and focusing on studying.” 

“That’s one way to do it,” Avery snorted, nudging Elías and whispering, “Do we tell them about the little homosexual panicking poor Draco’s probably having at having his crush meet his mother?” 

“I think they won’t get it,” Elías sighed, rubbing his temple as Sienna pulled Narcissa into another conversation. “Have you talked to him?” 

“Of course I have,” Avery raised his eyebrows. “I mean, I’m like, the prime gay, aren’t I?” 

“I exist,” Elías replied, narrowing his eyes. 

“You’re not _as_ gay as me, darling,” Avery smirked. 

“Oh yeah? Name all the songs by George Michael,” Elías crossed his arms, giggling. “I’m waiting.” 

“Alright, alright,” Avery snickered. 

“But for real,” Elías’ face changed, voice softer. “Did you speak with Draco?” 

“I have,” Avery hummed. “He always knew he was into boys, Elías. The question wasn’t…” he paused, lips pursing. “I mean, it’s – I don’t want to rattle on the lil’ lad, you know? I don’t want to tell you all his dirty little secrets. But his problem is not with liking boys, trust me.” 

“Alright,” Elías frowned, not understanding but if Avery said he’d spoken with Draco… “Is he alright?” 

“I think so. I think he’ll be alright,” Avery shrugged. “It’s just part of being a teenager. You have your moments. And you have your weird, dumb crushes that you – you hate having but you have anyway. If Potter’s going to be around more often, I think it’ll all turn out alright, if I’m honest.” 

“Okay,” Elías sighed, rubbing his cheek. “Alright, that sounds good.” 

“It’s just a complicated thing,” Avery told him, sipping on his sparkling water and leaning back as he brushed his hair out of his face. “You know when you’re younger, and – I don’t know if muggles are homophobes –” 

“For the most part? Very much so,” Elías replied dryly. 

“Oh goodie, so you also had the _being a feminine bloke is unacceptable_ phase?” Avery asked, chuckling. 

“Er… something similar,” Elías said slowly, feeling slight nervousness. He hadn’t had that phase, due to being trans, but he sure had some moments where his dysphasia wanted to reject anything and everything feminine that he had. He was happy now, displaying an androgynous look, but when he’d began to transition, it’d been hell to look even remotely feminine. 

“Hm,” Avery waved his glass at him a bit. “I did. My family was extremely homophobic.” 

“Sorry to hear,” Elías winced. 

“They got me into the whole – you know, Dark Lord thing,” Avery explained, taking a long sip. “And with that, of course, came the perpetuation of family values and whatnot. Reproduction for the greater good of pure blood kind and all that.” 

“Oh, _shit_ ,” Elías hissed, turning fully to Avery. “Fuck. And as a feminine guy –” 

“Oh, I didn’t _dare_ to be feminine,” Avery laughed, shaking his head. “No, no, I was like, pure playboy kind of man. I’d always have a girl at my side. I acted overly macho to overcompensate for how much I wanted to stomp on my parents with my heels.” 

“Sounds like a bad fucking time in your life,” Elías murmured. 

“It was,” Avery paused, eyes changing for a moment. “Well, it was and it wasn’t. I – met someone very important to me. And we hid, of course we did, we couldn’t be – _lovers,_ you know. Both of us were…” he ran a hand through his hair and gave a laugh. “Sorry, that’s so somber. I promise I’m a fun bloke.” 

“I know you are,” Elías nudged his leg. “Did it not work out? For you two?” 

“No, not really,” Avery shrugged, finishing his glass and putting it back on the table. “I mean, he _died_. And I’m pretty sure we only found each other because we were gay. And scared. And we didn’t know what we were doing at war but we wanted someone to hold at night.” 

“I’m sorry, Avery,” Elías whispered. 

“Nah, it just made me stronger. It made me the person I am today!” He grinned at Elías, all mask, pushing away his emotions but there was nothing Elías could do right now to let Avery know that he could just… talk to Elías. 

“Was he at least hot?” Elías tried to joke. 

“Oh, _absolutely_ ” Avery smirked, winking at him. “O nly the best for me, honey. He was _exquisite_. But an absolute dickhead.” 

“Aren’t all men dickheads?” Elías laughed. 

“Pretty sure they are,” Avery looked at Elías and nodded at him, seemingly a bit more relaxed. “Thanks for listening.” 

“No trouble,” Elías assured before he stood, stretching a bit. “Well, I think I’m going to get a head start on the ballroom. It’s the last room I’ve got an the sooner I get it done, the sooner I can just drink awful bubbly water with you here.” 

“Cheers to that,” the ginger topped his glass again, laughing. 

“I’ll go as well,” he heard Severus speak and Elías turned to see him, surprised. He’d been on the other side of the table, had he heard Elías talk to Avery? “Might as well finish it already.” 

“Alright, let’s go then,” Elías smiled, moving back into the Yaxley Manor, giving Corban a glance – relaxed, happy, giving out small but honest smiles. He looked good so far, but perhaps it was because there were so many people here. Maybe they should get someone here every week or two. 

The two walked in silence through the maze that was the Yaxley Manor and already, Elías saw the vast differences from when he’d last been here. No longer did the halls look empty, unused and obsolete but now the air was fresh, the curtains free of dust, pulled back to let the sunshine in. The floors and windows were clean, there were flowers on the vases that had sat empty before and Elías smiled widely. 

“It feels more like a home than before,” he told Severus quietly. 

“Indeed,” Severus hummed, hands behind his back. “Lucius told me that they’re planning to get rid of the pictures in that wall – put them in an album, for better keeping.” 

“That’s a good idea,” Elías murmured. “But it won’t be easy for Corban.” 

“No, it won’t,” the potioneer pursed his lips. “None of this will be easy.” 

“We’ll be there for him, this Friday,” Elías said firmly. “Have some dinner together. What do you think?” 

“With Potter as well?” Severus cocked an eyebrow. 

“He’s going this weekend to Ron Weasley’s, so no,” Elías rolled his eyes. “You’ll be free of him, hmm?” 

Severus simply raised his brows, looking like he was almost smiling and Elías sighed, following him through the hallways. The architecture of the manor was nearly Gothic, if anything, and Elías wondered what kind of ballroom – 

“Here it is,” Severus interrupted his thoughts, standing in front of two double doors, beautifully intricate. 

“Is it rococo?” Elías dreaded. 

“No,” Severus simply said before pushing in the doors and stepping through, making Elías pause as he took in grandiose stairs leading on with red velvet carpet into a wide, two-story ballroom. 

It was _gorgeous._

His steps down the stairs echoed, breathing out quietly as the double doors closed behind him and the dirt on the windows and the mostly drawn curtains only let in the minimum light. It looked like something haunted, like history left behind. Cobwebs and dust littered the entire room but it was still absolutely breathtaking. 

Elías walked to the middle of it, seeing a crest of some kind on the marble tiles of the floor, probably the Yaxley family – a knight profile with a long, straight horn that reminded Elías of unicorns. He stared at it for a moment, beholding the intricate details of it before reading down below the letters in Latin, _ortum_ _ex hoc r_ _ub_ _eum._

“From red we rise,” Elías translated quietly. Even with such softness, his voice easily carried through the room. 

“The Yaxley’s were knights,” Severus explained, moving beside Elías, glancing at the crest. “Soldiers, some would say. Blood is part of their lives and many thought they were cursed to die in battle.” 

Elías’ stomach churned, “That’s bullshit.” 

“It’s just a story, Elías.” 

“Wonder how many times Corban thought it wasn’t,” he said, irritated, watching the columns, the tall, tall, tall windows, the soft balconies closed to the sides, the upper open floor. “This room is beautiful. Is it giving you agoraphobia?” 

“Not as of yet,” Severus murmured, glancing at Elías with a grateful look. 

“Alright,” Elías whispered, spinning around for a moment, looking at the beautiful, intricate ceiling, which depicted – depicted Bluehill, Elías was sure. The thousand blue flowers upon rolling hills. “This must be dream-like to dance in.” 

“Sometimes,” Severus shrugged and Elías gave him a small smile. 

“You have?” 

“When I was sixteen.” 

“Ah,” Elías laughed. “That time where you’re too awkward to be confident in absolutely anything. You must’ve hated, being here.” 

“Actually,” Severus inhaled a bit sharply, looking not too bothered. “Actually, I did not. It was for Corban’s birthday. Sixteenth birthday. Lucius taught me how to dance, for the ball, and I remember thinking that I’d step on someone’s foot and be kicked off Hogwarts.” 

Elías laughed, “And? Did you?” He teased. 

“I turned out to be surprisingly good at waltz,” Severus gave Elías a little smirk. 

“Show me,” Elías dared, sparkle in his eye, facing Severus fully. 

Severus cocked an eyebrow at him, unimpressed, “Haven’t I told you already a thousand times that I do not dance?” 

“Aw, Sev, _come on_ ,” Elías pouted, hands moving to grasp his right arm, the one that wouldn’t make the man uncomfortable. “When are we ever going to have the chance to dance in a haunted-looking ballroom together, huh? Tell me, are you going to keep crushing my dramatic, muggle-childhood dreams?” 

“What kind of _dreams_ did you have where you wanted to dance in a haunted ballroom?” Severus laughed, making Elías’ heart skip a beat. 

“I’m queer, leave me alone,” he giggled, hands sliding to grasp Severus’ fingers. “Come on, come on! Teach me how to waltz – teach me how to dance the way you wizards do!” 

Severus let Elías pull him onto the center of the ballroom, their steps ringing around, rolling his eyes, “It’s the same as muggle waltz, I’ll let you know.” 

“I don’t know how to waltz either way,” Elías told him. 

“No?” Severus cocked an eyebrow. “Do you not know any ballroom dance?” 

“I know how to do a Sevillana,” Elías defended. “But I learned when I identified as a girl, y’know, so I don’t feel comfortable donning on a skirt and dancing it. Which means I can’t dance it – come _on_ , Sev, why don’t you dance?” 

“I don’t enjoy it,” the potioneer said dryly as they stopped, the sliver of light coming from a more or less clean window shining over his eye, nose and half his lips, the rest cast in shadows. Elías wished he knew how to paint, right then and there, striken by just how utterly handsome he looked. 

“Not even a little bit?” Elías‘ eyes went wide. 

“The day I want to dance, I’ll dance with you,” Severus told him, lifting a hand to tilt Elías’ chin up. “But I’m warning you, Elías, that the day won’t come.” 

“Alright,” he sighed, a bit pouty still but giving him a soft smile. “Thank you, for considering it, at least.” 

Severus’ face changed a bit – softening, relaxing, lips quirking up and Elías felt such a smug fucking happiness at the thought that _he_ could do that. 

“You’re very much welcome,” he replied, bowing his head a bit, making Elías smile. “And although I cannot show you how to dance, I could show you how to behave in a ballroom, if you so wished to.” 

“I’ll ponder on it,” Elías grinned, patting his chest. “For now, let’s just clean this place.” 

Elías pulled away, only a little bit disappointed about the dancing, and quickly got to work first on the windows. He threw a thorough cleaning spell on the curtains first before pulling them aside, the heavy ropes holding them in place and Elías touched the deep red velvet, thinking of that motto, of the crest and the Manor and how Corban hadn’t walked away from all of this. Maybe this Manor meant too much to him. Maybe it had good memories that he didn’t want to walk out of. Maybe it was like Severus, and he felt unable to face another home, another world that wasn’t a safe space that he thoroughly knew. 

In any case, if Corban was choosing to stay, Elías was going to try to make it as inhabitable as possible. 

It truly was a beautiful grand ballroom and the more Elías and Severus cleaned, the clearer it was to him. Elías hadn’t had a Sight in a while but he thought it’d be nice to have one in this place to try and see what it was like with people in it, with music ringing. He touched the stair railing, the copper detailing on it and thought of the laughter and the clinking of glasses, of a younger Corban and Severus, of the moon shimmering through the window – 

“Elías…? _Elías_ _!_ ” 

The world spun and his knees gave in.

* * *

“You’re disgusting.” 

“I try.” 

“Seriously _disgusting._ ” 

“Am I wrong, though?” 

“ _Regulus_.” 

The tall boy turned, grey eyes dancing with cruel mischief, looking at a much, much younger William. His hair had no braids and it was pulled into a tight, single braid – respectful and unbothered. It was strange, to see him raising his normally missing arm to take a sip of what seemed like champagne, and nudge the youngest of the Black. 

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Regulus dared, pale and beautiful, leaning his head back to let out some smoke into the night air. Inside, there was music and laughter but outside, the crickets sang and the moon shone big and white, casting the two Slytherins in gentle light. 

“Just because you’re right doesn’t mean that you should say it,” Will groaned, head dropping back against the wall. “I don’t want to hear about Lucius and Narcissa _fucking_.” 

“Neither do I, but when you catch them in a closet, you begin to see patterns –” 

“Ah, so you two are here.” 

Regulus and William turned to see Severus, the boy wearing dark, gala robes as he slowly walked to his friends, glaring at the cigarette Regulus had in his hand. 

“Those things kill,” he told him, plucking it out of his hand. 

“Is that a promise?” He grinned. 

“Will make your teeth yellow,” Severus added, cocking an eyebrow and Regulus’ smirk dropped, letting the young potioneer drop it to the dirt and step on it. “Have any of you seen Icarus?” 

“No,” Regulus sighed. “And neither have I seen Pippa, so – I’m not even going to try.” 

“I see,” Severus hummed, looking over at the window, to the inside. “He’s going to ask her to marry him.” 

“Mighty Merlin,” Will’s jaw dropped. “Tonight?!” 

“Why didn’t I know about it?” Regulus frowned. 

“Because you can’t keep a secret from Pippa, and we all know it,” Severus snorted, smirking. “So he told me.” 

“Is he also making you the Godfather of his firstborn?” Regulus pouted. 

“Don’t be an idiot, that will be Hugo,” Severus rolled his eyes. “I’m not his literal brother.” 

“I’m glad for him. For the both of them,” Will spoke up and the two others turned to him, giving small, private smiles. “Haven’t her parents been pressuring her for Rosier?” 

“Yes, so this will take the heat off,” Severus, leaned against the wall, arms crossing, eyes without bags, without burdens in them looking up towards the million stars in the sky. “I hope it does go through, to be honest. I’ve never seen two people more in love.” 

“Narcissa and Lucius are _mad_ about each other,” Regulus pointed out, smiling. “But I agree, I think Icarus and Pippa deserve each other.” 

“What about you?” Will nudged Severus. “Any luck with Evans?” 

“No,” Severus winced. “…not at all. She will not speak with me.” 

“Fuck her,” Regulus snorted and Severus gave him a hard glare. “Are you joshing me? She’s literally with _Potter_ , of all people. You deserve someone better than some muggleborn who ditched you for a Gryffindor, Sev. You could have a _nyone else_.” 

“I don’t want anyone else,” Severus mumbled, sulking. “I want _her_.” 

“You’ve been in love with her for what? Years? Since _before_ Hogwarts?” Regulus asked, eying his best friend. “And it’s always been one-sided?” 

“I wouldn’t expect you to know, since you’ve never loved anyone in your entire life,” Severus spat at him. “But what do I expect, from Mr Marble himself?” 

“ _S_ _everus,_ ” William chided, frowning. 

“No, I mean, he’s right,” Regulus’ eyebrows lifted, a bitchy look on his face. “Just imagine, though, how pathetic you truly must be for piece of heartless, cold marble himself to tell you that you’ve got to move on out of empathy, huh?” 

He passed them, rolling his eyes and waving a hand at Severus, ignoring William’s soft _mates, please_. He didn’t look angry, just annoyed and a bit smug, entering the ballroom again and closing the door behind him, leaving Severus to stare at the floor and William to fiddle with his thumbs a bit. 

“Er…” William began, blowing out a breath. “You know how he gets –” 

“Yes, I know,” Severus sighed, rubbing his face. “I – do you think he’s right?” 

Will winced, “I think you’ve got to stop chasing Evans, but I don’t think you’re pathetic for loving her, mate. You two were good friends. It’s understandable. Regulus is just cold as shite.” 

“Right,” Severus whispered as the song finished and an applause was heard. “I hate this,” he murmured. “Everyone wants me to dance. Lucius even taught me. But I’ve got no partner, I don’t want to dance with _anybody_ here. I just want to dance with Lily.” 

“Then don’t dance,” Will put a hand on his shoulder, making Severus look up with wet eyes. “If you don’t want to dance, mate, then don’t. It’s a bit sad that you won’t give Bella even a chance after Cissa took so much time to –” 

“I am not dancing with _Bella_ ” Severus hissed. “She will _not_ dance with me. She’d eat me alive, are you joking?” 

Will laughed loudly, throwing his head back, “Oh, come on! She’s pretty, at least.” 

“She looks at men like they’re lab rats,” Severus grunted. “So no. Leave poor Lestrange to pine after her and her fortune.” 

“Alright, alright,” Will lifted his hands, amused. “What about —” 

“I already said it, Will,” Severus sighed, looking away. “I won’t dance.” 

Will frowned, looking at his friend with sympathy and a bit of sadness before glancing at the window into the ballroom, taking a deep breath. He suddenly stood straight, moving in front of Severus and giving a wide grin. 

“Alright! No potential suitors, alright, alright, I get it,” he offered a hand. “What about a friendly dance, then? Just you and me. No pressure to marry me,” he then added, teasing, “And if you have that pressure, then take me to dinner first.” 

Severus laughed, giving a lopsided smile before taking Will’s hand and falling into step, the two friends moving away from the windows and into the cobblestone on the side of the Manor, following along to the music inside and immediately starting to bitch about Regulus’ attitude, Lucius’ lovesickness and all of their friends inside – always with a small smile, always with a fond voice, hands together.

* * *

“…ust you always fall on _stairs_? Truly?” Elías heard Severus’ voice, much older and much deeper now, blinking hard as the ceiling of the ballroom came to view. Severus’ hand was on the back of Elías’ head, the other one on the small of his back and Elías realized he was awkwardly sprawled over the grand staircase, steps digging into his body. 

“Ow,” he mumbled, hand rubbing his head. “Oh, _fuck_.” 

“I see we’ve made no advance in these blackouts,” Severus grumbled, letting Elías sit up, crouched in front of him. “Why did you not warn me?” 

“I felt no – no ringing, no anything,” Elías confessed, confused. “That’s so weird. Then again, I haven’t had any Sights in like – like a _month_.” 

Severus frowned, “You haven’t?” 

“I thought it was because I pushed my last one very hard?” Elías murmured, sighing, eyes having trouble focusing. “I – honestly, I thought they’d come back in no time. But no small nor big Sights, that was… almost disorienting.” 

“What did you See?” Severus asked. 

“You,” Elías made a face. “Corban’s sixteenth birthday. He proposed to Pippa here?” 

“Not here,” Severus winced. “Did you see the proposal?” 

“No,” Elías replied with an apologetic look and Severus sighed. 

“No, of course you didn’t,” he grunted, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Look, I was sixteen and stupid —” 

“No need to apologize. I know it was worse back then,” Elías patted his shoulder gently before murmuring. “I did see Regulus? He… was not what I expected, I’ll be honest.” 

“What? Rude? Blunt?” Severus cocked an eyebrow. 

“Bitchy,” Elías determined and Severus gave a little chuckle. “Honestly just bitchy.” 

“He did bitch a lot,” Severus gave a small smile. “We slept over at Lucius’ that night and he ended up apologizing. Told me that he’d drank too much champagne. He hadn’t drank a single drop that night but I didn’t call him out on it. He was apologizing, after all.” 

Elías snorted, “Sounds like Sirius.” 

“Regulus was better than his brother,” Severus replied, frowning. 

“Alright, I’ll try and believe that,” Elías groaned. “Help me up?” 

Severus nodded, standing before grabbing Elías around the waist and aiding him to his feet again. The world spun for a moment, Elías’ sight blurring and he swore he could see the outline of Regulus Black climbing up the grand staircase, hair dark, moving as if underwa – 

Elías paused, eyes wide, hand shooting out to grab Severus’ back but the silhouette was gone and Elías just felt nauseous and weak. 

“Elías?” Severus asked worriedly, holding onto him tighter. 

“Sorry, just… faint,” he mumbled. 

“Let’s get out of the ballroom, get you some water,” Severus sighed, pulling him up and out of the room, leaving Elías confused and a little bit dreadful of the strange Sights he was starting to experience. 


	7. Back to Focus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Just a quick reminder for everyone - 
> 
> I have been doing profound research regarding a lot of the themes in this fic but I am not foolproof and a lot of the first-hand experiences that I've been advised on and told about may be very niche. I am, after all, a white individual from Spain that hasn't had much experience with anyone desi, though plenty with Moroccan/Muslim friends and family. If you are someone who is desi, who is Indian, who reads over this and finds something DEEPLY FLAWED, I urge you to please speak up!! If I've made a mistake or said something extremely insensitive, please talk to me!! I will rectify and try and get more educated about the issue.
> 
> Trigger Warnings for this Chapter:  
> \- Discussion of racism  
> \- Discussion of cultural genocida in small scale  
> \- Discussion of losing touch with your own culture  
> \- Discussion of sexism/misogyny/gender roles   
> \- Mention of guilt/guilty feelings  
> \- Mention of jealousy

They arrived home late.

Elías was thoroughly exhausted, magic scant and his head pounding from the Sight and his entire body sore from the evening dueling lesson he’d had with Severus. Harry seemed happy, though, as they came back to El Rompido, the heat sinking into their bones and the boy took off his jacket and moved to put it in the hanger, yawning.

“Did you have fun today?” Elías asked him, giving a small smile.

“Yes!” he nodded, turning to Elías, hands moving to his pockets. “It – I had a lot of fun.”

“M’glad,” Elías leaned back against the dining table, arms crossing with a little lopsided smile. “You seemed to finally get along with Malfoy, more or less.”

“It’s a work in progress,” he said dryly and Elías laughed.

“What did you guys do in town?” the Spaniard asked.

“Er – well, we looked around? I saw Neville’s house but he wasn’t there, apparently,” Harry shrugged before fiddling with the buttons of his flannel. Elías watched him, slowly raising his eyebrows, knowing he was either lying or deflecting. Harry was easy to read.

“And what else?” he prompted.

Harry groaned, looking at his guardian, “Really? Am I that easy to catch?”

“You fiddle a lot. I’m a Slytherin. One of my best friends is Severus Snape,” Elías said, amused, giving a laugh. “Come on. _Desembucha_.”

“We went to my grandparents’ house,” Harry mumbled and Elías frowned.

“That old abandoned home? Was it safe?” he asked worriedly and Harry winced. “ _Harry_. I – look, kiddo, I get that you want to see part of your family and heritage and all, but going into a crumbling, abandoned house is _dangerous_.”

“I know, I _know_ but – but I got this!” Harry quickly pulled something out of his pocket and approached Elías, green eyes wide, and Elías took a crumbled picture from his hands, looking at it and –

“Wow,” Elías breathed, seeing James with his parents. It was a picture in a garden and James was between them both, grinning so wide that his entire face brightened. Elías watched their faces, slowly smiling before he realized that Harry’s grandmother had henna in her hands and so did James, despite wearing a kurta. Was she Arabic, then? “Oh, _Harry_ , this picture is so lovely,” he breathed, feeling his eyes burn a bit and he looked at Harry to see him staring deeply at it, looking emotional.

“Their names were Aarush and Safaa,” Harry told him, tapping the back of the picture and Elías turned it to see in neat, western alphabet the names. “I – I didn’t know. It was nice to know, though.”

“Safaa is Arabic,” Elías explained softly, eyes tender. “I think your grandmother was Arabic, Harry.”

His chest burned a little as he looked at her, thinking of his own grandmother and her troubles with interfaith marriage, back when she’d had to give up her religion due to her family. Elías didn’t know how that translated into the wizarding world, but he knew that extreme religiousness wouldn’t permit someone Muslim with someone Hindu. Was that why they’d moved to England?

“She was really pretty,” Harry murmured quietly.

“She was,” Elías smiled at him, moving a bit closer. “Here – you see all those markings in her hands?”

“Mhmm,” Harry nodded, his cheek pressed against Elías’ arm.

“That’s henna,” Elías explained. “I think your grandmother was Arab of some sort, Harry.”

“Really?” his eyes went wide.

“Mhmm. We’ll have to ask Remus or Sirius, though,” Elías pet his hair gently, handing him the picture. “They look very much in love, and like they loved your father very much. I’m glad. I’m sure your father grew up in a very loving home.”

“Yes…” Harry murmured, touching the picture reverently and Elías paused before he moved to the chimney, grabbing one of the frames he had about. He gently took out the picture – one of he and his sister in Asturias, when he’d practically looked like a Malfoy – and handed the frame to Harry, who blinked at him.

“Frame it. We wouldn’t want it to deteriorate, right?” he grinned and Harry swallowed visibly before quickly putting the picture inside, nodding. “You could set it on your nightstand.”

“Yes, I – I could,” he croaked, rubbing his eye under his glasses.

“It’s late, Harry,” Elías granted softly, squeezing his shoulder. “And it’s been a long day. You’ve therapy tomorrow and we’ve got dinner with my parents, too. So rest up, yeah?”

“Alright,” Harry nodded, clutching the frame against his chest. “I – I was careful at the house, you know? I wasn’t – We didn’t go to places we knew were unsafe.”

Elías’ face softened, “Next time, just ask an adult, please, and we’ll arrange something. Alright? I know you’re careful, but a professional would know better than a bunch of teenagers about the state of an abandoned house.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry nodded. Paused. Then – “I did have fun, you know?”

Elías grinned, “Good. I’m glad you did.”

“Goodnight,” Harry murmured, finally walking out of the living room and up the stairs. And perhaps it was a bit absurd, for Elías to feel like he was a bit more connected with Harry because of his grandmother, but… it felt nice.

* * *

Remus arrived mid-breakfast on Thursday, as Elías served Ron another fresh glass of orange juice, the boy half-asleep on the dining table, Harry perfectly awake.

“Professor Lupin!” Ron gaped, eyes wide.

“Oh, good morning, Ron,” the werewolf nodded at him, laughing.

“Morning, Remus,” Harry waved before biting into his toast.

“Good morning!” Remus said cheery and Elías offered him a glass as well. “Ah, thank you – sorry for the interruption, but I’ve got news.”

“News?” Harry perked up. “Sirius-related?”

“Ah, no,” Remus gave Harry an apologetic look before turning to Elías. “Eli? If you’d please?”

The Spaniard blinked, still half-asleep before he quickly set the glass jar aside, following Remus deeper into the house. The two stood on the patio, which Elías had somewhat filled with some interior plants but they were kind of dying. Remus gently pushed a pot aside before he could trip on it and turned to Elías, whispering.

“Poland has confirmed their position in the TriWizard Tournament,” Remus told him and Elías blinked, arms crossing.

“Holy shit? For real?” he ran a hand through his face, greasy and in need of a wash. “Fuck, I’d almost forgotten all about their indecision. Fillius and I are still looking for a damn singer, it hadn’t occurred to me that there are still other countries not in on this.”

“It’s starting to gather some attention,” Remus laughed, reaching over to brush some of Elías’ wild hairs out of his face. “To be honest, it was an excuse to see you and Harry.”

Elías laughed, hand moving to his wrist. “You don’t need an excuse to come see us, Remus. You can just come by.”

“Good to know,” Remus murmured, smiling softly and Elías’ heart skipped a bit as his scars pulled and his green eyes shone, making him quickly look away before he could blush.

“A-also,” Elías cleared his throat. “Uh, Harry found out some things about his grandparents and he had some questions. You knew them, right?”

“Safaa and Aarush, yes,” he nodded, giving a small smile. “Good people.”

“They were in Bluehill?” Elías began. “And – well, we went to Bluehill on Monday, to help Corban clean his place and Harry went by the old Potter residence. He really wants to know about his grandparents. About his family. He even found an old picture, it – it was very moving, Remus,” Elías sighed.

“They were good parents, would’ve made good grandparents,” Remus sighed, rubbing his temple. “It uh, cancer took Aarush. They weren’t too young when they had James, it was – well, it’s a whole story, theirs. But Safaa had dragon pox back in the 80’s, it was bad.”

“I’m sure Harry would love to know about them,” Elías told him, hand slipping to grasp Remus’ fingers, squeezing. “Was – was Safaa Arab?”

“She was Moroccan,” Remus replied and Elías gave a blinding smile. “Your grandma is Moroccan, right?”

“Yes!” Elías grinned. “Oh, that’s – wow, that’s such a coincidence. That’s nice.”

“Yeah, she – well, I don’t know the _whole_ story, mind you,” Remus quickly said. “But theirs was a bit of a runaway marriage. Both were pureblood but both were from _vastly_ different worlds. Apparently when Aarush went to Morocco, he fell in love with her? And well, neither of their families would accept the marriage to they fled to England. That’s what I know.”

“I see,” Elías rubbed his neck and sighed. “That sucks.”

“It’s – I think it’s why James was so against purist beliefs?” Remus told him, shrugging. “He was a firm believer that nobody was inferior for the way they were born, nor superior. For a long time, he thought they were actions, what made you good or bad.”

Elías snorted, “Rich coming from a bully.”

“Yes,” Remus laughed a bit awkwardly. “But he grew out of it, yeah? So… I’m just glad he wasn’t a purist. Apparently, Safaa’s family was _very_ into purism. She took in Sirius the moment he was kicked out, and Aarush too, mind you, but Safaa… she really cared for Padfoot. I think she saw herself in him.”

“I see,” Elías whispered, sighing. “I wish Harry could’ve known them.”

“He would’ve been more spoiled than Draco,” Remus said, amused, and Elías gave a loud laugh, throwing his head back. “James was _utterly_ spoiled. I loved the man but – Merlin, he was their little angel.”

“Oh, man, that’s – of course,” Elías grinned at Remus. “Would you tell him, then? Like, the things you _do_ know?”

“Sure,” Remus nodded, smiling back. “How – how did it go with the Slytherins?”

“It went great, actually?” Elías said and Remus seemed to relax. “I feel like Narcissa has a soft spot for Harry. But Theo was there, too, you know, and… he seemed okay? In any case, Harry had _fun_ and the Yaxley Manor now is habitable, so I feel like it was a good day.”

“Glad it went well,” Remus nodded. “What about the rest? Therapy, did last time go more or less alright?”

“More less alright,” Elías winced. “He had a hard time last session. Mostly struggling with uh, self-worth. His therapist told me that he should do some exercises and so should I, like – working on telling him when he does well, and telling him I care about him – _him_ , and not what he can do or provide for others.”

Remus made a face, looking away and sighing, “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Elías looked over towards the living room. “Gods, and today I gotta take my T shot and I’ve a feeling I’m gonna just – be out of commission.”

“Oh,” Remus blinked, looking at Elías with surprise. “You still –”

“Oh yeah, for like – the rest of my life,” Elías laughed at the face he made. “Gotta take testosterone every twenty six or so days. And I’m already feeling kind of headachy, crabby and all, so… I just hope Harry can go with Ron or Hermione today.”

“I could take care of him,” Remus spoke up and Elías watched him. “I mean –”

“That’s… not a bad idea, actually,” Elías said to him, giving a small smile. “He would love to spend the day with you, I’m pretty sure.”

“A-alright,” Remus stuttered, as if he suddenly realized what he’d said and Elías patted his cheek, amused.

“Come on, Moony,” he chuckled, pulling him back towards the living room.

Ron was much more awake by then and he brushed his longish ginger hair out of his eyes to look over at the two professors. Harry smiled at them, calm and a bit better than he’d been at the beginning of the week.

“Hey, you two,” Elías began, hands on the dining table, catching their full attention. “What are the plans for the day?”

“Oh, uh,” Ron blinked, then turned to Harry. “I dunno, mate. Plans?”

“Are you doing anything?” Harry asked Elías.

“I have to go to Madrid regarding some paperwork and medical stuff,” Elías nodded. “I get that it’s super boring, so you don’t really have to come, yeah?”

“Charlie is coming today, to the Burrow,” Ron spoke up, looking at his best friend with a grin. “You wanna come and stay over, mate?”

“Charlie is coming? Yes!” Harry immediately nodded, grinning before he paused, turning to Elías. “If I could –”

“If Molly agrees, I see no problem,” Elías was quick to say, tapping the table with his knuckles. “You could also bring one of those tomato boxes we got from the market! They’re still super fresh, I’m sure Molly will appreciate them.”

“Yes, for sure!” Harry smiled widely. “Thanks, Elías.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ron added.

“Make sure you ask Molly first,” Elías reminded them before he stood, stretching. “I’m gonna take a shower and get ready but hey – since they’re planning to go to the Burrow, you wanna come to Madrid with me?”

Remus blinked, surprised, “To Madrid?”

“Yeah!” Elías grinned. “We could go to El Prado? Or any other museum, to be honest? Just – I dunno, let you see a city I really love.”

“I’d _love_ that,” Remus breathed, laughing, running a hand through his hair. “I – _yes_ , I want to go, absolutely.”

“Great! I’ll start getting ready, then,” Elías smiled brightly, moving out of the living room and up the stairs, leaving Remus grinning before he took a seat at the table, gladly taking the glass of juice he’d been offered before.

“So Elías told me you saw your father’s old house?” he began.

“Ah – yes, yes I did,” Harry nodded, eyes wide. “Did you ever go there?”

“At your age, yes,” Remus gave a small smile. “Haven’t been to that house in… Merlin, almost twenty years? Your family moved to Godric’s Hollow pretty soon.”

“How were they?” Harry asked and Ron shifted a bit closer to his best friend, throwing an arm over his shoulders to show support.

“They were good people,” Remus decided to start with that, firm and easy to say honestly, giving Harry a small smile. “Your grandmother was doting and caring and she loved your father very much. She loved _all of us_ very much. Any friend James brought was immediately part of the Potters and she often berated him about not knowing enough girls.”

Harry laughed, smiling with a hint of wanting in his eyes.

“She was _excellent_ at sewing, too, I must say,” Remus hummed, tapping his chin, trying to remember things that would make Harry happy. “She was definitely the artistic one in the family, I remember. I know because she encouraged Sirius to pursue music and he always showed her every sort-of song he’d make. He’d show no one else, actually.”

“I didn’t know Sirius wanted to do music,” Harry whispered.

“I don’t know if he still wants to, but he loves music very much, I’d say as much as Elías,” Remus chuckled, smiling at Harry. “Then there was Aarush. He – well, he was a doting father as well? He was the cook of the house, which is why I think James could make anything from pakoras to biryani to gulab jaaman blindfolded and backwards.”

“I-I don’t know what any of those are,” Harry said, a bit strangled.

“It’s alright,” Remus said softly, hand moving to pat Harry’s hand gently. “You can learn, yes? I don’t – I’ve Italian roots but I don’t know any Italian at all. I never felt a disconnect because I’m at most a quarter Italian and my father never really spoke about it but I’m sure Sirius could tell you all about your family. He was always at your father’s, your grandmother even called him _habibi_ , I remember. And she only called James _habibi_.”

“ _Habibi_ ,” Harry repeated, quietly.

“Actually, talking about languages,” Remus began thinking hard. “I remember Lily and James were going to name you Hari.”

Harry blinked, eyes burning, “Hari?”

“Yes, Hari,” Remus gave a small smile. “They used the anglicized version, Harry, but there was talk of it. Lily embraced your father’s mixed cultures very happily and they had a beautiful Indo-Arab wedding. She wore a saree.”

Harry said nothing for a moment, looking down at his hands, picking at his fingernails and very obviously overcome with emotion. He took a deep breath and it sounded more like a sob, which Ron took as his cue to hug him tighter with one arm.

“S’alright, Harry,” Ron said quietly. “It’s alright.”

“I spent _so_ long – so _long_ hearing h-how… how I didn’t belong,” Harry began quietly, his voice a thread. “How I – I wasn’t supposed t-to…” he gulped, hand rubbing his face, taking off his glasses. “M’sorry, I –”

“It’s alright,” Remus assured, moving to crouch beside him, by the table, hand gently brushing back Harry’s hair. “I won’t pretend to understand, Harry, but I can tell you that whatever you want to say, Ron and I will listen.”

“D’you want Hermione to come, too?” Ron asked him softly. “I know she’s black, not Indian or Arab, but I know you two understand each other way more than I could you.”

Harry winced, looking at Ron, “I don’t –”

“I’m _not_ offended, mate,” Ron gave a laugh. “Not at all. I get it. Hermione doesn’t get it when I talk about… about not having money and the like. It’s easier to talk to someone like me. So it would be easier for you to talk to someone that isn’t white, right?”

“Not exactly Hermione,” Harry laughed, brushing the tears from his eyes, watching Ron with so much appreciation. “She wasn’t – wasn’t disconnected but – thanks, Ron.”

“You’re my best friend, Harry,” Ron said firmly, hand moving to grab Harry’s hand, clasping it tightly, firmly, blue eyes on his. “And the Dursley’s were utter racist _gits_. If someone says anything to you or Hermione or Pansy or Blaise? They’re going to have to face me and my _entire_ family.”

Remus gave a small smile as Harry nodded, still choked up.

“I just wish I’d known it was alright,” Harry rasped, rubbing his nose. “I wish I-I’d known about my grandparents and… and about my dad and my mum. Aunt Petunia said that my father was lazy and useless and I _believed_ it for so long –”

“Your father was _not_ lazy. At _all_ ,” Remus told Harry firmly, the boy turning to him. “In fact, James was one of the most hardworking people I’ve ever met. You know what he wanted to do? You know what James struggled to accept that he wanted to do?”

“What?” Harry sniffled.

“He wanted to take care of you,” Remus said, hand moving to Harry’s shoulder. “Wanted to be a stay-at-home father. He saw nothing happier in his life than taking care of his family. Your mother was a _brilliant_ writer and an incredible painted and he encouraged her to go out and have the career she wanted. He was admonished by all our professors for having nothing else in mind than just… caring for his family. But he did. He loved you so much, Harry, you and your mother,” he saw the boy’s eyes fill up again and Remus moved closer so Harry could hug him, letting out a slow breath. “He was my best friend. Sirius and I knew him best. He was a good man.”

“Thanks, Remus,” Harry croaked, clutching at his shirt.

“Forget everything that they’ve told you, alright?” Remus said gently, rubbing Harry’s back. “Your parents were wonderful people. Lily’s family – the Dursley’s, your aunt and uncle? They shamed her for falling in love with a brown man. But love sees no colors, Harry. And your parents loved each other very much,” he pulled back to hold Harry’s face firmly. “I know I’m probably not the most indicated person to tell you to this and let it sink, let it – let it come from a knowing place. But you should _never_ listen to those who disregard you for the color of your skin. Lighter or darker, brown or black, _whatever_ it is.”

“Alright,” Harry rubbed at his eyes, nodding.

“You’re a smart, caring, wonderful man,” Remus added, catching Harry’s surprised look. “If your father were here, if your parents were here? I know they’d be proud of who you are, who you are growing into. Because you’re _good_ , Harry. Despite everything, you’re _good_.”

“I’m going to k-keep crying if you keep t-talking,” Harry whined and Ron gave a laugh, Remus smiling softly.

“I just thought you ought to know, alright?” the werewolf let him go gently, standing with a grunt. “Until Sirius gets back. Which I’m dreading, because I _know_ him. And he’s going to spoil you.”

“He already did!” Ron called out, elbowing Harry to make him laugh. “Gave him a broom and all!”

“I miss Sirius,” Harry murmured quietly.

“We all do. But he’ll be back, sometime. We just need to keep an eye out and be patient,” Remus assured the two of them, Ron and Harry nodding. “Do you feel better?”

“Actually,” Harry blinked, looking almost surprised. “A-actually, yes?”

“Good. I’m glad,” Remus grinned, relieved. “Don’t ever be afraid to bring up how you feel. I’m sure Elías would be happy to listen to, as well.”

“He’s always telling me to talk about my feelings,” Harry said and Remus thought for a moment about how emotional Elías was, and how unashamed of it he was, as well. It was good, encouraging Harry under his care to not be afraid to cry.

“That’s because you should,” Remus told him, chuckling, sitting back down. “Elías is smart. Listen to him.”

“He’s smart but he always trips over his own shoes,” Harry pointed out.

“He’s daft with some things but pretty smart with others,” Remus chuckled.

“True,” Harry fiddled with his fork for a moment before turning to Ron. “Do you reckon we could ask your mum about Hermione also coming?”

“I’ll ask,” Ron nodded, giving him a grin.

“Thanks,” Harry whispered.

* * *

“I was right,” Elías groaned as he and Remus sat down in a small restaurant near Ópera for dinner, in Madrid, the man wincing as he flopped on his chair. “Fuck, I feel like shit.”

“Yeah?” Remus frowned at him, looking over Elías. “What’s wrong?”

“Hot flashes, I always get them the day I stick that fucking needle,” Elías whined, rubbing his face before sighing. “It’s fine! It’ll be fine. I can grow a beard and it’s fucking worth it,” he laughed, glancing at Remus. “Did you like our museum spree?”

“It was brilliant,” Remus confessed, smiling. “Never had anyone to go to museums with, before. Lily would sometimes come but she was a social butterfly. Always had plans with this person or had to go to that party or – you know.”

“Well, now you’ve got me, so when Sirius gets back, we can absolutely annoy him with our pretentious need to visit historical places,” Elías teased, smirking, making Remus laugh.

“I’m pretty sure that if Sirius gave it a chance, he’d enjoy museums,” Remus pointed out.

“Oh, I think the same,” Elías was quick to say. “But I think he wouldn’t like – not being able to touch things? I feel like he’s that kind of person who likes to feel art.”

“He is, actually,” Remus said, surprised, blinking at Elías. “He specifically said that he dislikes not being able to touch painti – did he tell you this?”

“No,” Elías replied, amused, “I can just read Sirius very well.”

“Ah,” Remus replied, feeling something warm in his stomach, watching Elías as a waiter came by and took their drinks, leaving the menu down. Remus read without really registering anything, for some reason stuck on that.

He knew that Elías and Sirius got along, he _knew_ but the thought of Elías actually starting to guess and understand Sirius never really settled until now. Remus hadn’t talked to Sirius much about Elías and he realized that Remus didn’t know what Sirius thought of the Spaniard, not as of now. Last time he’d asked, the two had been fighting about that stupid Severus thing.

“You seem to have him a bit more figured out,” Remus told Elías as the waiter came back with drinks, then left with their food orders.

“Who? Sirius?” Elías asked, surprised, flicking some hair out of his face. “I mean, we understand each other.”

“I know you’re very similar,” Remus agreed. “But I just – I don’t know, I thought – that it was kind of curious, just how easily you guessed his attitude towards art.”

“I don’t think I’ve got him fully figured out, if I’m honest,” Elías said slowly before he paused, thoughtful, leaning back on his chair. “But I think I’ve got some things figured out.”

“Like what?” Remus asked curiously, cheek resting on his hand, elbow on the table, watching Elías while the sky steadily turned pink and orange.

“I think he struggled with sexuality in his own way,” Elías began slowly, making Remus blink. “I think he struggled with where it left him in the world. Like – he thought of his own bisexuality, his own queerness and then asked himself bigger questions than that until he realized that being bi was just what he was, you know? He had an easy time accepting he likes more than just women but he struggled with where that left him, if you know what I mean.”

“Alright,” Remus said softly, absolutely stunned at how Elías just said exactly what Sirius had told him years ago in the Gryffindor boys’ rooms. “That’s one thing.”

“I think – I think he also blames other people for things that are blameless, and harder to assimilate _because_ there’s no one who can be clearly blamed,” Elías frowned, playing with a lock of his hair. “Like the whole issue with Severus, which can be traced to abuse and exploitative cult tactics but is also partly to blame on Sev, you know what I mean?”

“Yes, I know exactly what you mean,” Remus sighed.

“I think Sirius is angry,” Elías murmured, touching the edge of the table, looking sad. “I think he’s rightfully angry at the world for failing him. Failing him with his education, with his family, with expectations, with his friends. He’s angry that Peter felt the way he did, that Lily and James had to die, that you ended up homeless for a good chunk of your life, that Harry had to live with abusive guardians for most of his life. He’s angry that he spent twelve years in Azkaban and couldn’t give everything he had to give to the world.”

Remus was quiet for a moment, looking down at the wood of the table, chest tight, seeing Sirius’ wide smile in his memories, the difference between the one he’d seen most recently and the one he’d given Remus before that fateful full moon at the end of Fifth Year. There was a vast difference and it hurt to think about.

“I think he’s a good man,” Elías continued, making Remus look up. “Who can hold so much love for those around him – including Regulus and Narcissa. But he struggles to see how society and expectations also shaped them and forced them into what they were and are today. He struggles to see how Dumbledore and many others failed them as kids and didn’t pull them out of a brewing cult in the dungeons of Hogwarts.”

“Because hating Slytherins is easy,” Remus replied, swallowing. “If he had to think about his brother with the thought of Regulus as a victim –”

“I don’t think Regulus was a victim,” Elías cut in, frowning. “I think Regulus was a victim of a cult but he was a _war general_ , Remus. He killed people, he led blood purists in a genocide against muggleborns and muggles.”

“No, no, I _know_ but – but if Sirius thinks that he could’ve saved his brother, it injects all these feelings of _failure_ onto him. So much guilt.”

“It wasn’t Sirius’ fault, he was fighting his own battles,” Elías sighed, rubbing his cheek. “But Gods, if he’d only reached out…”

“If anyone had reached out,” Remus nodded, face pulling into sadness. “Well, it is what it is, alright? No sense to dwell on it.”

“Right, right,” Elías nodded, shaking his head. “Sorry, I just… I had a Sight on Monday. Saw all those Slytherins so young, like… sixteen or so. And I saw Regulus for the first time and it made me think.”

“Ah,” Remus said, uselessly.

“He was such a bitch,” Elías laughed and Remus gave a little grin.

“Yes, he was. And he was worse towards Sirius,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Those two would just _fight_ , which I think it’s the reason why Sirius is so good at comebacks.”

“Did Regulus always win or what?” Elías asked, amused.

“He’d _destroy_ Sirius,” Remus giggled. “It was funny to see him get low, from time to time, I’ll be honest.”

Elías laughed as well, giving a soft smile and with the sunset glow hitting his face, Remus quickly had to look away, fearing the Spaniard would hear his heartbeat from the other side of the table. Remus cleared his throat, turning back to him once he’d calmed down and soon their food arrived, stalling the conversation but not Remus’ thoughts.

He kept thinking of how Elías could so very easily figure out things about Sirius and he didn’t know if it bothered him or not. It just left a strange feeling in his chest and he refused to call it jealousy, because he wasn’t _jealous_ of Elías, not when he knew that Elías would rather eat his own foot than sleep with Sirius, as he’d said before.

But – but _still_.

It bothered Remus for the rest of dinner, like a pebble on his shoe, like a thorn on his side, constantly reminding him even though the conversation had moved on onto various other topics that had nothing to do with Sirius. So Elías would be talking about Molly not allowing Hermione to sleep over because of stupid conservative views and Remus would still think about Elías and Sirius somehow understanding each other on a level that Remus was nowhere close to.

Remus beat himself up over it throughout all of dinner because it was _stupid_. Elías and Sirius were – they were completely _incompatible_ romance-wise and Sirius truly wasn’t in the right place to start anything and Elías knew it and he’d point-blank told Remus that he was no attracted to Sirius so _why_ was Remus so hung up on this?

Maybe it was that Remus was no longer who he used to be, that he wasn’t... mischievous or spontaneous or – or _happy_. Long ago, he’d been able to keep up with Sirius and yes, Sirius was also different and they’d both grown and they’d both become older and somewhat different but it still – it still left Remus floundering, whenever he’d gone to the Shrieking Shack to find Elías already there, talking rapid-fire with Sirius about music.

“You’re distracted.”

“Sorry,” Remus said, apologetic, giving a little wince as they moved through the center of Madrid towards a deserted alley where they could disapparate in. “I just –”

“Did I put my foot in my mouth or something?” Elías winced, turning to him, looking nervous and Remus watched Elías with a sense of guilt settling deep in his stomach. Elías looked like he’d been thinking over this too much, too, and the two paused on a deserted alley, only a few dim streetlights illuminating them. “I’m sorry if I did, I tend to talk and talk and not know what I’m saying, Gods, I –”

“Elías, _Eli_ ,” Remus moved to him, hands on his shoulders, gently squeezing and Elías looked up, eyes wide. “Eli, I’ve literally just been jealous of your ability to parse Sirius out.”

“Oh,” Elías blinked, surprised, making Remus grunt, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“I – you knew – you know exactly how he is and I kept thinking that you two…” Remus flushed, embarrassed, ashamed.

“Oh. _Oh!_ Oh, no, no, _no!_ ” Elías quickly said, laughing, hands moving to grip Remus’ hands. “Absolutely not! Sirius and I – look, the guy’s handsome but he is _not_ my type, alright?”

“He’s absolutely your type,” Remus said dryly, making Elías squawk. “Any bloke who can discuss art or potion theory with you is your type.”

“Fucking _Christ_ , you didn’t have to call me out like that,” Elías mumbled. “Alright, he’s my type but he’s a dick, yeah? And I frankly dislike his attitude towards a lot of shit. Like _trust_ me, Remus,” Elías laughed, shaking his head. “Me and Sirius? That’s ridiculous.”

* * *

A letter from Sirius sat on the dining table when Elías got back to an empty home, Harry off with the Weasley’s and Remus gone home. He stared at it, incriminatory, making Elías glare because of _course_ Sirius had sent him a letter. He pondered whether to even look into it, thinking it could be for Harry but that was ridiculous, because if it was for Harry, then the owl would’ve gone to the Burrow, not _here_. Right?

Fuck it.

Elías sighed, setting his keys and wallet aside and taking the letter, making a face at the name on it. _Angel_. Fucking hell, Elías was starting to realize why Remus had looked like he’d swallowed something sour the entire evening, with Elías talking about in-depth feelings Sirius had.

It was bullshit. It was stupid. Elías had gotten in trouble before with other people regarding his familiar and basically flirty nature. He’d been called a slut for the majority of his college fucking life because of it, he knew what it looked like to others but to think Remus had been hurt because of it… it truly made him feel bad. Especially because he _did_ care for Sirius. He was Elías’ friend. And he was probably getting himself into dangerous situations and Elías was worried for him.

Elías opened the letter, sighing, pulling out the scant piece of paper, hoping that at least Sirius had written to Remus, as well. Elías would feel awful if he hadn’t. He sat down on the couch, socked feet moving to the edge of his seat, leaning back and reading over the awful handwriting Sirius had with a small smile. Of course Sirius had terrible handwriting.

_Hello, Angel_

_I’m alright. I’m okay. There’s no need to panic or shed tears. I can’t tell you where I am for obvious reasons but I can tell you that I’m safe and things are stable as of now. The conversation about me and my glorious Azkaban escape has died down for the most post, especially since I’ve been sighted in Austria, which is out of Wizarding British jurisdiction. I’ve been hoping to catch a break and be able to write to everyone._

_I hope you and Harry are alright. I’ve sent a couple of letter to the kid and he seems to really enjoy life with you so far. I told you that you could do it, angel._

Elías looked away, taking a deep breath, not knowing why reading Sirius’ words made him so fucking emotional. He pressed the back of his hand against his eyes, taking a deep breath, rubbing them. He missed Sirius. Elías missed Sirius and so did Harry and so did Remus and if only he’d done what he needed to, Sirius would be right here right now. This was all Elías’ fault.

_I’m going to lay low for a good while. I don’t know when I’ll be able to see any of you again but I want you to know that you’re in my thoughts. I keep thinking of the generosity you showed me, even when it wasn’t owed, when it wasn’t something I deserved. Not just the homemade meals or the blankets or the little muggle things you brought me, but also the company, the music. I’ve had that song from when you cut my hair stuck in my head for weeks. I only wish I had you around to play it._

Elías stopped bothering with scrubbing his face, simply pulling his knees towards his face, nose buried between them, his hands shaking a little as he held the letter up.

_When I finally am able to get back home, we need to go to a show together, angel. It’s a promise I truly mean to keep. I’ve got a city to show you and I’ve got records to play for me. So keep that in mind and just keep working on the ever growing list of bands and artists I haven’t listened to yet._

Elías gave a watery little smile, guilt eating him from the inside out, toes curling.

_I hope summer treats you well. Hope the sea is kinder to you. And I hope your sister behaves while you try and save everyone around you by throwing them into therapy._

_Cheers._

_Padfoot._

“You fucking asshole,” Elías mumbled, taking a deep breath and rubbing his cheeks, eyes stinging and chest tight. “Fuck, I miss you.”

His words rang in the emptiness of El Rompido and Elías was glad that Harry wasn’t here. He didn’t want the boy to see that Elías felt guilty or burdened by what happened, didn’t want Harry to see that Elías also missed Sirius to a fault.

Elías had expected a different outcome, that June full moon, and he’d been _so_ stupid to think he could’ve defeated Carrow in a duel with Pettigrew near. But if he’d only caught Pettigrew faster, if he’d been paying attention, if he’d prioritized –

It didn’t matter now. None of that did. Things were as they were and there was no sense pouring over mistakes made over and over again. Now what he had to do was take care of Harry, tend to his lessons, find a performance for the TriWizard Tournament and finish the journal from that mysterious author.

So Elías stood, in all his hyperfocused glory, and got up to his office, locking the door behind him, sitting down and opening _The Forbidden Art of Time._


	8. King's Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! Sorry for the long wait, but this chapter has been possible thanks to @comp-lady, my good friend! She's helped me so much with the whole AA Meetings and the character Aiden belongs to her, along with a lot of people that we will meet in King's Point! She's written this with me, this chapter, so go and shower her with love on tumblr!
> 
> Lots of trigger warnings for this chapter:  
> \- Alcoholism  
> \- Discussion of alcoholism  
> \- Discussion of addiction  
> \- Discussion of death/grieving  
> \- Discussion of abuse  
> \- Cult mindset  
> \- Memories of cult happenings  
> \- Mention of horror movies  
> \- Mention of Severus' parents  
> \- Mention of Philippa/Jane  
> \- Mention of Regulus' death  
> \- Mention of war

King’s Point was a quaint little town in the south of England, in Kent.

A coastal, historical town, known for being one of the places where refugees from Dunkirk in 1940 arrived in small, civilian boats. This was proudly displayed on the town center’s publicity board and Corban read it over and over again, foot tapping incessantly against the wooden, creaky floor. The building was old and everything smelled like Elías’ home but stale – salty from the sea but… more like trapped brine. The paint was chipped, the couches were slightly stained and Corban saw various children coming in and out with bags, soft piano music coming from one of the rooms.

He made a face, looking away from the stupid sign that displayed the hours for the alcoholics anonymous and trying not to scream at the receptionist and her incessant clicky-clacking on that infernal muggle machine. All of it set Corban on edge, especially because he'd thought it'd be different. He thought it'd be white, sterilized, clinical and non-personal but this was fucking personal. It made him sweat. And the heat of the day didn't help.

“You alright?" He heard Elías ask and he turned to look at the Spaniard, swallowing before quickly nodding, foot tapping a bit faster. Elías had come with him today, because Corban refused to make Severus look at the disaster that was Corban anymore than he needed to. "Do you need to go outside real quick? Just take a deep breath."

"Not gonna help," Corban rasped, rubbing his face. "Fuck, fuck. I - are they going to hug me or some shit?"

"Pretty sure they won't hug you if you don't want to," Elías snorted a bit, giving him a small smile. "Just relax, man. I know it's a new experience and all, but nobody's going to judge you. I promise."

"I just - just don't know what to expect, is all," Corban breathed out, leaning back on his seat and gripping his coin tight, inside his pocket. He wore muggles clothes today - a black button-up, slacks, his usual boots. He felt strange without his tunic but the button-up wasn't too bad. And he could push the sleeves back – or, well, _sleeve_. No need to broadcast his Dark Mark. "Are you sure they won't hug me?"

"Tell them not to," Elías shrugged before a person finally walked into the waiting room. He glanced around, rocking back onto the heels of his feet before his gaze finally landed on Corban and Elías, making his way over to where they were waiting with a smile.

"One of you must be Corban?" He asked.

Both Slytherins looked up and Elías threw a thumb towards Corban. Feeling almost betrayed, Corban ended up nodding and standing, mouth dry, grunting as he looked over the man; shaggy, graying hair, thick glasses, a stubble, warm brown eyes and a friendly look on his face. He looked plainly muggle and Corban realized just how nervous he was because what if he said something that broke the Statute? How would he explain any of the cult shit without - without saying it was magic? Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

"I'm Corban," he rasped.

"Ah, good to meet you! My name is Aiden," he said, shaking Corban and Elías' hands in turn, grip firmer than expected. "I'm glad to see you could make it."

"I would say I'm glad to be here but uh, I'd be lying," Corban chose to say nervously and Elías shot him a sympathetic look, his hand moving to rub Corban's back. It didn't make him feel better. "Aiden, you are - I wrote to you and you to me? You're going to be my... buddy, right?"

"Fair enough," Aiden said with an understanding smile. "The technical term is sponsor, but you don't have to use that. Go with whatever you feel comfortable with. Having a sponsor is about having someone to reach out to who understands the struggle. Someone else who's been in that place. You can write to me or you can call me, most people use the phone but if you're more comfortable with letters we can do that. Don't be afraid to reach out at any time. I mean that, middle of the day or night."

Aiden motioned back at the room he stepped out of. "Otherwise we meet here every day of the week. You don't have to come every day if you don't want. We've got people that come once a month, we have people that come every day. Now today's meeting isn't for a little bit, but that gives me some time to show you around and give you an idea of what to expect. Shall we?"

Corban hesitated, eyes flickering to Elías nervously. The Spaniard gave him a slow smile, one of those that he gave Potter or the kids, making Corban swallow as Elías grasped his shoulders, watching him.

"You've got this," Elías told him firmly, eyes gentle. "I'll be waiting here all day if it's necessary, yeah? Take your time, don't get into your head and just... remember that this is something you can take your time with, Corban, yeah? No - stupid pretenses on what you should do, how you should overcome this. If this doesn't work, we have other options, we've other ways. And you've got all of your friends backing you up."

Corban nodded, eyes stinging a bit before he quickly gave Elías a hug, unable to put into words how quickly the Slytherin had become one of Corban's close friends. He loved Severus and Narcissa and Will and Harvey and all the others but when it came to these things, he was glad he had Elías – someone who was recent enough that Corban wouldn’t feel _too_ ashamed.

"Thanks," Corban finally got out, then turned to Aiden, taking a deep breath. "A-Alright. I’m ready.”

The room Aiden led him to wasn’t particularly spacious but it was clear efforts had been made to make it cozy instead of cramped. Along one wall there was a table with a small assortment of snacks and some drinks nestled in a cooler with ice, a few motivational posters dot the walls, with simple slogan such as _One Day At A Time_ and _This Too Shall Pass_. It was the pictures pinned to a cork board that catch Corban's attention;

Dozens of unmoving faces, many of them smiling and holding up little coins that proclaim 1 year, 2 years, 5 years sober, and snapshots of what looked like celebrations or birthdays and holidays.

"Ah, most of that's the home group. The people who come regularly."

"Home group," Corban repeated quietly, fingers fiddling with his own coin. He felt a spike of inadequacy, suddenly, looking at all these bright, shining examples of people who were obviously better than him. "I-I've been an alcoholic for... uh... I think… ten years. More like - like eleven."

There's a dip in Aiden's brow, and he nodded. "We've quite a few in the same boat as you, and some that have been in it even longer. What's important is that you're here and working on your recovery."

"Are these people -" he gestured at the wall, wincing. "- are... they all from King's Point or uh - I'm sorry, I'm just... I'm from Surrey."

"Oh no, we've got people from all over the place,” Aiden replied.

"Right, right," Corban rubbed his arm and wondered if wearing only one sleeve on his elbow was weird to him. A wizard would immediately know why, they'd know but Aiden was all easy smiles – _muggle_ smiles.

Merlin, he and Pippa had once thought people like him were detrimental to humankind. He was such a fucking idiot. He was such a fucking asshole, thinking someone in a tiny little town living his life and just doing his thing was affecting his own life whatsoever. Corban swallowed an apology dancing on his tongue and just went quiet, not knowing if he'd even have the guts to speak up. Aiden would never know that Corban had hated muggles like him, before.

With a pat on Corban's shoulder Aiden moved further into the room, adjusting a few chairs as he spoke. "We generally keep things pretty informal, meeting last about an hour. People generally linger afterwards to talk though. Our official meet time is 5:30, but we usually wait about ten to fifteen minutes. Just to give the stragglers time to get here. Like I said we have people coming in from all over. We've got a short introduction speech we do for each meeting, whether it's myself or someone else leading the meeting. We have any new members introduce themselves, after that we open the floor to everyone. For people so share their stories and have a discussion."

"What... what if I can't? Not - not yet?" He rasped, feeling utterly pathetic.

"It's okay, man. Take a moment, take a deep breath." Aiden was back at his side in an instant. He placed a hand on Corban's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "You don't have to share anything tonight, in fact if you never want to share that's okay. No one will judge you."

Corban paused, eyes turning to him, "W... seriously?" He blinked.

"Seriously. There's a few people who have never shared anything with the group. Maybe individually, with their sponsors, but for them it's enough knowing that there are others out there that share their struggles."

"Alright," Corban croaked, rubbing his nose quickly before looking away. "I... you've been through this, you said?" He tried to make small talk, remembering how he'd once been good at it.

"I have. Y'know, it took me five tries before I could even go to my first meeting." Aiden ran a hand through his grey streaked hair. "Pretty pathetic to be honest," he said with a sheepish smile.

"No, no! It’s..." Corban swallowed, shaking his head, looking away. He couldn’t finish.

Aiden shrugged, still smiling. "I'd decide today is the day, drive all the way out to the meeting, then sit in the parking lot and never go in. It's a bit pathetic, but that's okay. Recovery is hard, and there will be those low moments. That's why we have these meetings, and our support systems."

Corban didn't know what to say, tongue tied and feeling utterly stupid as he stood in this muggle building. These muggles understood each other and helped each other while the wizarding world was eating anyone and everyone for a scrap of prestige. It made him think of… of a decade ago, when Uriah had been hospitalized by Antonin for making a muggle friend. Back then, Corban had watched and felt like he’d deserved it. And now Uriah was dead.

Merlin, he'd been _so_ wrong.

"What's good is it looks like you already have a personal support system,” Aiden kept speaking, unaware of Corban’s inner battles.

Corban winced, "They're... my friends," he rubbed his face - his greasy, unkempt, disgusting face and quietly, he murmured. "W-what's left of them."

Aiden just squeezed his shoulder, giving him a sympathetic smile. Not a hint of judgement or pity on his face and Corban took in his face and didn't know how to tell him that touch was - it was a bit too much so he shifted his shoulder until Aiden finally let go, making him breathe easier.

He didn't feel ready. He didn't feel like he was prepared for any of this. Nothing in life had prepared him for a muggle self-help group in fucking Kent but by Salazar, he had to get his shit together. For all the trouble his friends had gone through.

And because he owed it to Pippa and Jane.

Aiden moved away, ducking down to pull a few boxes out from under a nearby table. Pulling out handfuls of pamphlets that he placed on the table in neat little stacks. Corban scanned the titles as Aiden placed them on the table. _A Newcomer Asks_ , _Our Twelve Steps_ , _Questions and Answers on Sponsorship_ , and quite a few more.

"People should be arriving shortly, so feel free to find a seat. Don't be surprised if a few people introduce themselves," Aiden said.

Corban almost blanched at the thought of multiple strangers talking to him but he took deep breaths, one after another. Trudging to the nearest seat, Corban pondered for a moment what would happen if he just... booked it.

Fuck, Elías would be sad, wouldn't he? Worse, _Narcissa and Severus_ would be sad.

Just as it seemed he'd calmed down, Corban began hear voices outside, quickly followed by a man shouldering the door open, carrying some muggle contraption, which he deposited in an open spot on the snack table. A woman followed closely with a tray of biscuits, another carrying a veggie tray.

"Are we all set for the day?" the woman with the veggie tray asked.

"Once Chester gets the coffee brewing we will be." Aiden said, drifting over to help arrange the table, making room for the trays the women brought.

Corban didn't know why all this food was being brought in and he spent an unhealthy amount of time trying to figure out what the contraption did, looking at all the little buttons and metallic things it had. Lately he'd been working on learning a few muggle things, since Elías' home was covered in them but there was so much, he'd never even taken Muggle Studies.

A few minutes later the contraption gurgled and the smell of coffee filled the room. Right. A coffee machine - Elías had one of those and Corban pondered whether to get a cup or not before deciding against it, shifting a bit in his chair.

Shortly after was when people start filing in, in ones and twos. Aiden stayed by the door and greeted each person as they entered, young and old, different races and moods. Some obviously recognized Aiden and other members… some looked as nervous as Corban felt. A girl, maybe in her twenties, took a couple pamphlets and sat a few seats down from Corban. Her hands shook and her knee bounced rapid-fire as she scanned the pamphlet _A Newcomer Asks_.

Corban felt a little better, seeing her just as nervous as him and he felt his shoulders relax, taking in the room. He'd never been in a room full of _so_ many muggles before, not as just... another one. It was humbling, in a way.

Of course, though, his luck didn’t last.

An older man approached, face deeply lined and leaning heavily on a cane, and he introduced himself as Chester with a firm shake of his hand. "I am always proud of the new faces I see here," he said, voice deep and rough. "Recovery is a hard path to take. Just remember even in the darkest moments that you are not alone." With that, he moved on to speak to the girl.

Corban sank in his seat, thoroughly embarrassed, hand over his face to rub it hard as he took a deep breath. He hoped that hadn't drawn attention to him because what Corban didn't want to be, was noticed.

He snuck a glance sidelong at the girl, finding she looked a bit shell-shocked by whatever the old man said to her. Corban sighed, eyes sliding to Aiden, who was speaking with a few others. He just wanted this to start already, fuck, this anticipation and impatience was making him jittery.

A few more people introduced themselves. None as forward as the old man was. Aiden took his own seat and Corban realized it would be starting soon. He pulled down his other sleeve, uncaring of the heat of the day, nervously shifting on his seat. For some reason, he kept thinking that Aiden and everyone else could see his Dark Mark.

Aiden stood up, clearing his throat to get the rooms attention. A hush fell over the group. "Alright everyone, welcome. My name is Aiden and I'll be leading today's meeting. As always I would like to start with welcoming the newcomers. To these newcomers I promise, this is a place free of judgement and shame. This group is here to support each other in our journeys of recovery. No matter what form that takes. We celebrate each other's successes and help each other during the low moments."

This bloke would like Elías for sure.

It felt like one of those speeches the Spaniard gave everyone. Like a fucking pep talk. Corban tried not to laugh as he remembered the way Severus had scowled at the first speeches Elías gave him on being a better person - and how it'd changed to fond annoyance now. Corban found himself suddenly fondly annoyed by Aiden. The man was alright, he supposed.

"For that is our ultimate goal," Aiden continued. "To stay sober and help other alcoholics achieve their own sobriety. Every AA group does this in their own manner, in this group we share our stories and discuss them if we are comfortable with it. Whether it's a new coping method you've discovered, a day where you fought the urge to drink all day, or a success you've had. If this method doesn't work for you let one of use know, we might be able to connect with one of the other groups nearby that can help."

"And we also ruin each other's diets with Gwen's brownies," one of the people in the meeting spoke up, making a few others laugh. Corban felt a small smile appear on his lips.

"That's also quite true," Aiden chuckled. "With that I would like if you're new, please, stand and introduce yourself. First names only, of course."

The girl a few seats down stood up, along with several others. More than Corban expected. Corban nervously watched as everyone that was new introduced themselves and his ears rang, not letting him process most of the introductions, feeling almost dizzy when it finally came his turn.

"H-hello," he spoke up, swallowing, his Irish tilt a bit heavier, unfortunately. "I - my uh, name is Corban. I'm 32 years old and it's n-nice to meet you all." He quick sat back down, heart in his throat, swallowing.

The chorus of "Hello, Corban" he received in return was jarring but they moved on to the next introductions, until finally all the new people were seated once again.

"Normally I would start our meeting with my own story to share, but today Jack said he would start." Aiden motioned to a man sitting a row ahead and several seats to the right of Corban. Taking his seat as Jack stood and glanced around the group.

"Hi, everyone," he spoke in a deep South Yorkshire accent. He looked young, about Elías' age - redheaded, freckled, pale and with a scar over his jaw. “My name is Jack, as you all know now and – and I felt into alcoholism because of uh, trauma and coping in unhealthy ways. Had a bad household and an alcoholic brother and things just kept falling apart. I had a clean streak, for a while? I was proud of it but when things soured with my wife… well, I had an excuse. So I went back to drinking. And it –”

The man took a deep breath and Corban sank a little in his seat, swallowing hard. He couldn’t even think of what his drinking would’ve done to Philippa. She would be devastated, if she was alive.

"I just - I wanted to tell you all that I finally got uh, ahead regarding the divorce. My wife told me that she’ll think of it for another week, she’s giving me a chance. I saw my kid just yesterday and she - she wanted to see me. I was completely sober and to be able to remember all of the minutes I had with her..." his eyes watered and he looked down at his hands. "It reminded me why I'm doing this. It reminded me that – that remembering is much better than forcing myself to forget."

Fuck. Corban felt like throwing up.

A few people clapped as Jack sat down, murmurs of congratulations rippled through the room. "I'm glad you'll be able to make new memories with her," someone said.

"Me too," the man smiled and Corban tried to control the burn behind his eyes, thinking of Jane and Philippa, Jane and Philippa, Jane and _Pippa_.

"I wanna talk next," a woman spoke up, and Corban thought she'd introduced herself as... Sarah? Lara? Sarah.

"This might be kind of stupid but I don't really care." She stood and glanced around. "My mom passed down the family liquor cabinet to me when she passed, she also passed down the family tradition of being a drunk. Ever since I got sober the cabinet sat empty. I wasn't sure what to do with it, I didn't want to get rid of it but what do you do with a liquor cabinet when you're sober? Well I found my answer. Pigs in hats."

Several people broke into confused laughter, Corban’s lips twitching a bit.

"Pigs... in hats?" Jack asked.

The woman nodded decisively. "Little figurines of pigs wearing hats. I have a few from childhood, my mother hated them. Now I'm going to give them a home in that bloody cabinet, and maybe get more."

"I let the neighborhood kids have mine. They set it up in an empty plot down the lane, absolutely ruined the thing. It's still there. No idea what they use it for. Stopped them from tagging the chemist's wall though," a man added, grinning from ear to ear.

"I didn't have a liquor cabinet but I did have like, this antique fuckin' box," A Scotsman spoke up, looking to be in his early forties, "One day I was off the rails, just absolutely smashed. So I grabbed a bat and broke it, along with all my liquor, because I'm that kind of idiot. Was the perfect excuse to just... not buy another box. Not buy another cabinet, another bottle."

"It's important to remove the..." Aiden sighed as he took a moment to think.

"The excuse," A woman added. Nodding slowly as she stared down at her lap. "If you have the box or the cabinet you want to fill it. If that... that temptation is there it just makes it harder to resist."

Corban thought of his bar at home, filled to the brim until Severus or Narcissa came around to empty it themselves, liquor down the drain. He always filled it back, though, now out of habit.

"What -" he began, raspy, skin prickling. "What... about... that which makes you want to drink?" He asked, gathering the attention of the others. "What if - what if you don't want to forget what happened but you - you don't want to keep drinking?"

"I think—" The first woman started. Then stopped, brow furrowed. "I don't know. I've been trying to... I guess recontextualize them. Like... the cabinet was the family pride because it held liquor for generations, my mother loved it for that reason, and she... she... she's the reason I started drinking in the first place. She always said one of the worst things to do was to let that cabinet get empty. And I just... wanted her to be proud of me so I always replaced every bottle I finished immediately, then I'd feel miserable about it, drink so I don't feel miserable, finish a bottle and then buy another. I got tired of drinking though, and I got tired of being miserable, and my pigs make me happy. I'm sorry, this probably doesn't make any sense."

"It's alright," Corban murmurs, and he wished he could talk about Pippa and Jane and everything else but the words just wouldn't come out, just wouldn't go through. He wasn't ready to talk to a bunch of strangers about his life. He didn't even talk to Elías much about it - or even his childhood friends. It was hard to.

"It's about recontextualizing, but also making peace." All eyes turned to the man speaking now. He was slumped down in his chair, his eyes distant with his arms folded tightly over his broad chest. "I... when cancer took my Cecelia, I was a lost and broken man and drink was my only comfort for a long time. I just wanted to... stop hurting. When I... the rest of my friends and family were a big help in finding the positives to look for in my memories of her. But I don't think I was really able to move forward until I made my peace. It was ugly, I went to her grave and spent hours sobbing like a babe over it and apologizing and just talking to her. It was hard, but it was also the first real step forward I was able to take."

Corban felt as if he'd been kicked in the guts and he said nothing else for fear that he'd just burst into tears or - or worse, have a panic attack. A widower. That man was a bloody widower, same as he was.

The widower cleared his throat. "So that, uh, that would be my advice. Find what you gotta make peace with and try your best to do so."

Corban said nothing yet again and he knew it was rude but his throat just wouldn't get that stupid lump go. So he just sat there, trying not to cry, watching the floor and refusing to look at anyone else in the meeting.

A long moment of silence hung over the group.

" _Commit to turning your will and your life to the care of yourself, not the bottle_." A woman with a soft Irish lilt to her voice broke the silence. Words careful and measured as if she were reciting a prayer. "I know not everyone is following the Twelve Steps but that... the third step helps me with that, because it was all my step-mother wanted for me. It would break her heart for me to drink again."

Fuck. Corban was absolutely fucked. He couldn't form a word, hand over his face as he tried not to cry.

"But how... how... how do we even get there in the first place?" The girl a few seats away asked.

"For everyone is different," that old man spoke, eyes kind. "I can't answer that for you. I do suggest uh... therapy. And listening to other stories, to make sure that you try different things."

"If something doesn't work then keep looking. Ask about other solutions. If one of us here doesn't have the solution we might be able to find it with a different group." Aiden added as he glanced around the group. Meeting the eyes of everyone he could.

Corban's eyes met Aiden's and he wondered what he was supposed to do with all this, if it was fucking him up so much. How could he do this every week? It make him want to throw up, all these people going through the same need, the same impulse -

"What -" he choked out. "What if... you just keep relapsing? Over and over and over again?”

"You try again."

Corban's gaze snapped over to the person sat two seats to Aiden's right. They were young, early twenties maybe, with their chin in their hands and their elbows planted on their knees. "I relapsed for the seventh time last week. Sixth? Something like that. You keep trying, and we'll be here for you if it happens."

"I'm already fucking over my old friends," he found himself croaking out. "I wouldn't want to fuck over the new ones."

"That's the goal of the group though, innit? 'To stay sober and help other alcoholics achieve their own sobriety.'" They quirked their fingers in air quotes around the statement.

"Right. Right, right," Corban cleared his throat and stared at the floor, eyes burning and he quickly rubbed them.

"Relapse is always a possibility, for each of us. Recovery is not a linear path from point A to point B. You will stumble and fall, take ten steps forward only to fall 6 steps back. It's happened to all of us," Aiden said.

"Watch me relapse again in a month," the person to his left added with a rueful grin.

Corban frowned, confused, "But... wait, you've all... relapsed?"

The person nodded, grin still in place. They cleared their throat, lifted their hand into the air and said with a slightly raised voice, "Raise your hand if you've suffered at least one relapse since joining."

Hands rose into the air. What looked like every person in the room.

Corban's entire fucking world shifted and he stood, messily, hearing his heartbeat in his ears and walking out of the meeting. His ears began to ring and a wave of heat took over him and he stumbled out, trying to get out, get out, get out -

"Corban? Corban!" He heard Elías but Corban was walking out of the town hall, to the side, at a park full of vivid, lush green. He leaned against the brick wall, hands against it, looking at the ground as bile rose and he nearly threw up. He was half a step from a panic attack and he probably would've fallen in if it weren't for a familiar hand rubbing his back.

"Breathe, Corban," Elías said softly. "Its okay. Just focus on breathing."

"I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't, I can't," Corban choked out against his hand, trying desperately not to throw up and Elías moved closer, his nose pressing against Corban's shoulder, holding him and fuck, it felt good. It felt good to be held, to be touched, to have some comfort as he tried to take in how wrong he'd been regarding recovery -

"Yes, you can," Elías murmured, rubbing his back a bit harder. "You're here. You're doing it. You're doing it right now. You haven't drank in weeks, you've got a coin to prove it. And you've got us, your friends - Sev, Cissa and I are here for you, Corban. We're right here."

"I can't go back in," Corban rasped.

"That's okay. That's alright, you don't have to," Elías gave him a small smile when Corban turned to him, surprised. "Take your time. If you can only go for fifteen minutes at a time at first... then so be it. Take your time, Corban. No one is rushing you."

Corban swallowed, eyes squeezing shut, his hand rushing to grip Elías' arm. For a moment, he just breathed, calming down his frantic heartbeat. Then his thumb moved, and he opened his eyes to see Elías' dominant arm - tattooed with silly, young people things. A bee and a dagger and a snake and some poetry in Spanish. No skull. No curse.

Elías was a fucking muggleborn trying to help someone who had killed a muggle before in a bloody purist cult. Corban couldn’t believe he was here, looking at him and inviting him to dinners and laughing with Toby and taking care of the kids – he’d already come so far, they all had. Five years – _three years_ ago, none of them would’ve even considered Elías a friend.

Corban looked up at him, throat dry, and he rasped, "I'm glad I met you." And he meant it, because Elías was a muggleborn and a good person and Corban hadn’t made new friends since he was thirteen that weren’t in the fucking cult.

"I'm very, very, very glad I met you," Elías replied in kind, and of course he meant it, his blue eyes light and understand, his free hand moving to hold Corban's cursed arm, squeezing.

"You can do this," Elías told him gently.

"I can do this," Corban said, almost delirious as he faced Elías, trying to stand, stabilizing himself. "I... I can do this."

Corban began to take small steps out of the park and Elías held his waist, an arm around it, giving him small, encouraging words. But not the condescending kind, just...

"–and you know, after this, you deserve a big, fat cup of coffee. With ice cream in it. Italians call it drowning coffee, which is stupid, because it’s the ice cream that’s drowning, right? Sienna would clock me in the jaw if she heard me right now, though I’m sure she’s already looking for excuses."

Corban laughed; a nervous giggle but one nonetheless, nodding.

"We'll invite Sev over for dinner tonight. My treat. Hey! Harry's out! You wanna maybe hang at Sev's or yours and we just - sleep over?"

"What are we, ten?" Corban snorted as they climbed up the steps of the town hall.

"Might as well be, if we're putting ice cream in our coffee," Elías snickered and Corban actually gave a little chuckle, opening the doors to step back into the waiting room.

Aiden stood by the front desk, face lined with worry as he rubbed his palms together watching the door. Something softened in his expression when he saw them and Corban felt guilty for pulling him out of the meeting.

"Are you alright? I know things can get overwhelming," he said as he approached to two wizards.

"I'm... I'm alright," Corban whispered.

"Just a bit overwhelmed," Elías assured, rubbing Corban's back gently, giving him a smile and Corban managed one for him. "He says he isn't ready for more of the meeting. Said -"

"Ac - actually, uh," Corban interrupted, making the other two men turn to him. "...I'll give it a try."

"Are you sure?" Aiden asked. "You don't have to stay for full meetings if it becomes too much."

Corban swallowed, glancing at the door and then looking at his feet, hands sweaty. He was tired - exhausted, even, eyes closing and head dropping against Elías' shoulder. He felt the Spaniard pat his side and all Corban wanted to do was just take a nap, lay in bed, try and compose himself.

"I'll come back on Monday," he finally rasped out, looking at Aiden. "Sorry."

"You're fine, take care of yourself first. I'll let the others know that you're okay and I'll be glad to see you again on Monday if you're still feeling up to coming,” Aiden gave him an understanding look and Corban was reminded that he’d gone through the same.

"Thank you, Aiden," Corban murmured, finally meeting his eyes, giving an apologetic smile. "It's just a lot."

"It is. I hope you feel better," Aiden said with a return smile.

"I hope so, too," Corban sighed before he looked at Elías, giving a little deprecating smile. "So. Ice cream on coffee?"

"Ice cream on coffee," Elías nodded, arm tightening around him, the both of them turning around to walk out of King's Point town center.

* * *

“It’s a dessert.”

“It’s a fucking beverage, Sev.”

“It has ice cream, it’s _dessert_.”

“Who gives a shit? It’s good, it’s perfect, it’s _just_ perfect.”

“It’s nearly nine in the evening and you expect me to drink this? Truly? Right now?”

“I’ve eaten ice cream for breakfast –”

“Of _course_ you have –”

Corban smiled, comfortably laying on the couch of Elías’ living room, hearing his two friends bickering in the kitchen. It was amusing, distracting and a little bit adorable to hear by now, which was something he welcomed with open arms after such a disaster of an afternoon. Also, Elías’ couch was incredibly comfortable and Corban almost felt himself sink into it, eyes on the window, watching the sea in the horizon. No wonder Elías was always so relaxed and happy – with a sight like that, anyone would be.

“Here you go!”

Corban sat up, taking the cup and saucer from Elías and looking inside, finding a delicious and mesmerizing ball of vanilla ice cream floating along his coffee. He smiled down at it, hands holding it close to his chest and Elías flopped down to his left, Severus carefully sitting on his right. In such an intimate, close environment, Corban felt his nerves lower and the shaking of his hands decreased.

“How you feeling?” the Spaniard asked, taking a spoon to drink his coffee like a child.

“A bit better,” he confessed quietly, taking a sip – delicious.

“It’ll take time,” Severus reminded him, voice calm and factual, the low pitch of it making Corban’s back unwind a little. “And there is no rush, as everyone in that meeting probably told you.”

“Yes, they… yeah,” Corban muttered, looking down at his cup, poking the ice cream with his small spoon. “It felt right, though.”

Severus watched him, slowly sipping his own drink. He never pressured him, never put him on the spot but Severus was always willing to listen. Perhaps that was why he and Corban were best friends, why once upon a time Philippa had kicked Narcissa teasingly to scold her for picking Severus, _her_ best friend as godfather for Draco.

“I felt like I was doing the right thing,” Corban explained, biting at his lower lip viciously. “It’s – it’s hard, I know it’s hard, it nearly sent me into – into a _panic attack_ but it felt like… salt on a wound, you know? It stings but it… helps.”

“You said you wanted to go back on Monday,” Elías said softly, Corban turning to him. “Do you want any of us to accompany you?”

“Yes, please,” Corban begged quietly.

“I’ll go,” Severus said, who hated muggle culture with a passion, who hated muggle towns despite living in one, who had an alcoholic father that killed his mother. Yet still stood next to Corban – helping him, encouraging him, cleaning up his act. Corban felt like shit already for what he was putting Severus through but if he could get it _right_ this time…

“Thank you,” the Slytherin murmured.

“Hey,” Elías spoke up and the other two turned to him as he lifted his legs on the couch, getting comfortable. “You know what we should do? The three of us?”

“What?” Corban and Severus asked – the latter dryly, the former amused.

“We should pull out this couch,” Elías patted it. “It’s a bed. And we sleep all together here, talking.”

“Like _children_ ,” Severus put, unamused.

“Like children!” Elías’ face lit up an absurd amount as Corban began to laugh. “Come on! It’ll be _fun_!”

“I doubt it,” Severus rolled his eyes.

“Well, I want to do it,” Corban retorted, making Severus grunt.

“ _Fine_. But do _not_ expect me to gossip,” he scowled.

Elías gave a laugh and Corban grinned, shaking his head, finishing his coffee and melted ice cream before setting the saucer and cup on the table, sighing. His nervousness and tension were almost gone by now and he began to hear Elías and Severus bicker again, making him think of how much things had changed since February, when Severus had begun to speak differently of the Spaniard. It made him think of that one meal they had in Severus’ home, with the… the surprised face Elías had made when Corban had caught onto his feelings.

That had been _months_ ago and whenever Corban looked at Elías, he’d see the young professor’s eyes and the affection in them – for Severus. And Severus hadn’t had someone look at him like that since… probably Hogwarts? Back when Corban had that stupid crush on him in Third Year. Severus was a difficult person to work with, especially at the beginning, but Elías had just snuck in. Hadn’t they hated each other? Corban thought they had.

“Listen, this is _slander_ against the best things in life, okay?” Elías stood, laughing, taking Corban’s empty cup and his saucer as he moved to the kitchen and the Potions Master followed him with his intense gaze. “Things that people deem childish are fun! Like eating absurd amounts of candy, having a sleep over, building a pillow fort…”

“I’ve never done those things as a child,” Severus said dryly.

“None?!” Elías’ eyes widened, gaping at him and Corban spoke up.

“His parents were gits and he never learned to have fun.”

“That’s a shame!” Elías flopped his arms, turning to Severus with a soft look, the potioneer returning it with an annoyed look. “We should do those. All of them!”

“I don’t think it’d solve anything,” Severus scowled.

“I think he’s kind of right,” Corban told him.

“Whose side are you on?” Severus scoffed, betrayed, making Corban laugh, leaning into the back of the couch, watching his best friend with a grin. A surge of affection ran through him at the way Severus looked – relaxed, at ease, not even masking a little bit. Usually Severus tried to at the very least look… not like him. But whenever he spoke with his closest friends, he would drop pretenses. Like with Corban. Or Lucius and Narcissa.

And now apparently with Elías.

“I’m on _your_ side,” Corban rolled his eyes. “Live a little. Let’s make a pillow fort.”

“If Potter comes in while we make a pillow fort, I’ll take the sheets and strangle you with them,” Severus threatened, glaring at Corban, who gave a little laugh.

“Harry won’t come until Sunday night, Sev,” Elías scolded softly, approaching the couch and leaning against the back of it. “You should stay with us and build a pillow fort and watch a movie.”

“What’s a movie?” Corban asked, confused.

“Muggle thing,” Severus rubbed his temple, sighing. “Merlin…”

“It’s like theater, but in your own home,” Elías explained, pointing at the box with a flat, reflective surface on it. “That’s a TV. You use it to look at stories that people tell. Like cameras! They capture movement, right? Well, imagine someone editing a bunch of photos together _and_ using audio, too.”

“Huh,” Corban’s eyebrows shot up. “Muggles can do that?”

“Yep,” Elías grinned proudly.

“Fascinating,” Corban smiled back softly. “I’d love to see this... _movie_.”

“Are there any you enjoy, Sev?” Elías turned to him and Severus frowned at the Spaniard, making Corban stare. It was the kind of frown from the past.

“I… didn’t really enjoy movies,” he explained dryly.

“Aw, come on! Everyone has a favorite!” Elías replied. “One that you tolerated? At least?”

“I enjoyed – _mildly_ ,” Severus was quick to add. “…Singin’ In the Rain.”

Elías’ face brightened up and he immediately gave a wide smile, arms moving around Severus’ neck in a hug, making the potioneer groan and Corban laugh. Elías pressed his face to Severus’, giggling while Severus put on a sour face – for show, of course. Corban knew Severus liked that Elías touched him, whenever _someone_ touched him.

“It’s my ma’s favorite!” Elías said, pulling back to look at Severus. “Seriously?!”

“Vertigo as well,” Severus cleared his throat.

“Oh, I _bet_ Lily was the one who showed you Vertigo,” Elías beamed and Corban tensed, waiting for Severus’ face to drop but the man scoffed.

“She showed me _every_ movie. Her favorite was Carrie – or the Exorcist? I believe?”

“Those are also _great_ , she was a fan of thrillers and horror like me!” Elías moved to sit beside Severus and the two professors didn’t notice Corban gaping a little at Severus’ reaction. Since when did he hear Lily’s name and _not_ snap at someone because of it? “My favorite is Carpenter’s The Thing. It’s just _so good_!”

“Have not seen it,” Severus shrugged and Elías gasped.

“Now we have to! Oh my Gods! Corban – _Corban_ ,” Elías turned to him and Corban gave him a cocked brow. “Do you like scary, horror, thriller stories?”

“Not particularly, but I’ve never seen a _movie_ ,” he replied.

“The Thing is _incredible_ ,” Elías was already moving to one of the shelves, looking around those little thin boxes piled on them. “I’ve the VHS here somewhere, hold on…”

“What’s a VHS?” Corban frowned and Severus chuckled.

“One step at a time, yes?”

“Right,” Corban laughed, shrugging as he relaxed on Elías’ couch. “One step at a time.”

The Thing by John Carpenter, apparently, was a movie about a monster that could camouflage itself by devouring someone, and sometimes animals as well. It was a horrifying, thrilling story that Corban was immersed in but when the movie was over, it left him a sense of… dread. And Severus and he didn’t stay for that sleep over and pillow fort, which Elías pouted at, but Corban did end up staying at Severus’ place.

“Remember that paranoia?” Corban asked him as Severus handed him the spare toothbrush, the two of them standing on the hallway. “The… feeling that one among us was the monster? The one who – who would give us up?”

“You mean of the four of us,” Severus said quietly.

“I thought it’d be Regulus,” Corban confessed, the words sour in his mouth.

“I know,” Severus replied, making Corban look up at him. “I thought it’d be him, as well.”

“You think the Dark Lord killed him, don’t you?” Corban whispered.

“I think the fool killed himself somehow,” Severus’ eyes quickly went to the wall instead of Corban’s. “I think he found something out and dared to confront the Dark Lord. Like an absolute _bloody_ fool.”

“He did always envy Gryffindors,” Corban murmured, glancing down at the toothbrush, heart aching. He could recall perfectly the way Regulus laughed, the sound always contagious, even if it seldom happened. “You think he tried to be a hero?”

“No,” Severus whispered. “I think he tried to be better than a hero.”

“A Black.”

“A _Black_.”

“Right,” Corban sighed, rubbing his eyes, sighing. “Today was… a _lot_.”

“So I’ve seen. Are you alright?” Severus asked, hand moving to the back of Corban’s neck, squeezing as Corban shook his head. “Do you need anything?”

“I think I just need to get through until the meeting on Monday,” Corban said, a bit choked up. “I think I can do it. I can do it. I can get through it.”

“We all know you can,” Severus put in softly, in that voice only a few had heard, hand sliding to his shoulder and squeezing again. “Rest. Tonight, you get to sleep knowing you’re moving in the right direction, Corban.”

“Goodnight, Severus,” he murmured, nodding, hand patting his side before walking to the bathroom.

At the very least, he was moving in the right direction.


	9. The Things We Don't Speak Of

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought about reviewing and deleting a few things from Elías' rant about trans men and the queer community out of the chapter but as I was doing it, I realized that I was censoring myself so like. No. No, I'm not deleting any of it. Fuck anyone who has a problem with it.
> 
> Trigger Warnings for this Chapter:  
> \- Discussion of transphobia  
> \- Discussion of rape  
> \- Discussion of homophobia  
> \- Discussion of biphobia  
> \- Discussion of transandrophobia  
> \- Mention of racism  
> \- Criticism of white feminism  
> \- Discussion of self harm  
> \- Mention of TERFs, (not by name, tho)  
> \- Discussion of the queer community  
> \- Discussion of what it is to be a trans man in this shit world  
> \- Just me, a trans guy, ranting about how hypocritical a lot of people are   
> \- and how fucking transphobic some of yall in the community are  
> \- and that. Just watch out for that.

“I’ve got two words for you, Moony – fucking… _romance castellano_.”

“Aren't those three words?”

"Fuck you."

Remus looked up from his own tome, looking at Elías – the Spaniard was sitting in the most absurd position on the loveseat, with one leg over the backrest and the other wrapped around the lowest part of it. Remus was pretty sure that he was ruining his back but apparently Elías was comfortable, so he let him be.

“Old Castilian? Spanish?” Remus asked him, amused. His own tome was in Latin so he wasn’t having too many problems – in fact, he was halfway through it already and they’d only began this morning.

“Yes! Old Spanish!” Elías groaned, arm thrown over his eyes as he set the book over the coffee table. “I swear, I’m not understanding half this shit and like, _trust me_ , my ma made sure I could read it. It just – I think it might be a translation? Maybe?”

“Why do you think so?” Remus asked, biting into the back of his pencil.

“Just the strange way it’s structured,” Elías sighed, sitting up, sighing. “I can’t understand half the scientific terms, either. There’s a lot of basis that I’m missing and I _hate_ it. So many advanced and _old_ alchemical terms…”

“Aren’t you studying alchemy with Severus, though?” Remus questioned.

“Well – yeah,” Elías frowned. “But right now we’re on basics. This is deeply advanced stuff. And Severus can’t read it because it’s – _ugh_ , it’s in _Spanish_. And _romance castellano_ at that.”

“Is there anything you _did_ understand?” Remus laughed, leaning against the armrest of the couch to look at his good friend, giving him a kind smile.

“The author is a man, for starters,” Elías told him, rubbing his temple and shrugging. “And also, apparently his mother is a sour point of his life. He’s a bastard.”

“Ah,” Remus frowned. “Then… how did he get an education?”

“Rich bastard,” Elías pointed out.

“ _Ah_.”

“But I think he’s mixed, that’s why he can’t rely on many people,” Elías watched Remus. “He speaks a lot about meeting his father and it’s a fucking bore when he speaks of theorem but it’s _depressing_ when he talks about how his mother and grandfather treats him.”

“Wasn’t he old?” Remus asked, frowning back.

“I _thought_ he was,” Elías whispered, taking the book again. “He writes like – and he’s got a _very_ advanced education, too, like, an _incredibly_ complex education. But the more he talks about feelings and inadequacies and such, the more I feel like he’s closer to _my_ age than _Dumbledore’s_.”

“Poor bloke,” Remus whispered, watching the red-bound book. “Mixed in the Middle Ages. A bastard. And a genius. Surely not the best combination.”

“And with mommy issues,” Elías mumbled before he stood, stretching hard. “We should start making lunch – did you find anything interesting on your own book?”

“Just much of the same,” Remus sighed, looking over his notes. “Inner eye, innate abilities that grow with time, prophecies that you never remember… There’s some data here about seers and how men can’t be seers because the Inner Eye is supposedly the _womb_ but… sounds iffy.”

Elías gave him a horrified look and Remus winced, nodding as he left his notes aside and followed the Spaniard into the kitchen. As the two began to pull out some carrots, some onions and chicken stock with spices, Elías sighed.

“Some women are just uh… stubbornly focused on the womb as a symbol of womanhood.”

Remus blinked, confused, “Isn’t it?”

Elías paused, looking up at him, unimpressed before gesturing at his crotch, “Am I a woman, Remus?”

“Oh, right, right,” Remus flushed, embarrassed. “But uh, they… focus on it because of the whole reproductive rights movement, right? Abortion or even being able to use methods of contraception.”

“Yes, and that is _important_ ,” Elías agreed immediately. “Like – hell,” he laughed. “When I was a teenager, my mother told me not to _spread my legs for anyone_. I was like, _ma, I’m twelve?_ And she made this huge important lesson about how my body is a temple and some shit and I was like, _well if my body is a temple, it’s dedicated to myself and I get to use it and do with it whatever I want_ , you know?”

“I mean,” Remus said slowly as he cut the onions. “Your body _is_ a temple. You have to take care of it, I don’t think it was –”

“Yeah, but why is my body a temple and yours not?”

Remus paused, looking at Elías and blinking while the Spaniard raised his brows. “I -”

“Did anyone ever tell you that your body is a temple, Remus?” Elías asked.

“No,” Remus confessed.

“It fucks you up, is what it does,” Elías looked down at the carrot he was cleaning with a peeler. “The whole purity and virginity and all the bullshit of it. Men tell you that you’re dirty once you’ve been _used_ , and women tell you that if you have sex more times than _they_ like, then you’re ruined. And not worth their time.”

“That’s harsh,” Remus said quietly.

“My womb does not make me a woman,” Elías stated firmly. “And other women’s lack of womb or non-functioning wombs don’t make them _not_ women. People should stop focusing so much on genitalia and what it can do and how people should regard themselves through their reproductive capacity. That’s why I’m so opposed to that whole thing.”

“It makes sense,” Remus agreed quietly, knowing that he’d never really… had something as awful said to him.

“It also comes a lot from like, white feminism?” Elías explained. “Like, we should _definitely_ talk about vaginas and how they’re much less researched due to years upon years of ignoring medical patients that were concerned women speaking of pains and – like, women get fucking ignored by doctors, yeah? And a person with vaginismus isn’t going to fucking know what it is until they’ve gone like, thirteen fucking times to thirteen different doctors, because nobody fucking _knows_ or _cares_ to know about vaginas. So they’re important.”

Elías took a deep breath, “ _But_ –”

“Your feminism shouldn’t… be centered on it?” Remus finished.

“Exactly,” Elías waved his knife towards Remus, grabbing a bottle of white wine from the fridge. “Having a dick doesn’t make you a man. And having a vagina doesn’t make you a woman. It’s such an aggressive, white-centered, able-bodied, cisgender way of thinking?”

“Hold on, hold on,” Remus laughed a bit, hand running over his face. “I’m sorry, I haven’t spoken about feminism since I was twenty – isn’t feminism supposed to uplift all women?”

“Supposed to,” Elías said dryly. “But women of color always get the short end of the fucking stick. Or disabled women. Or trans women. Or even trans _men_ , who _are_ part of the circle of people who are affected by misogyny.”

“How so?” Remus frowned, putting the cut onion into a bowl, his eyes red and irritated from it.

“I was born a woman, Remus,” Elías whispered. “I was told that I couldn’t play with computers as a kid because those were _for boys_. I was taken off hockey because it was _for boys_. I couldn’t choose _not_ to wear a dress. I was called a slut for having friends that were men. I was shamed for being fat and being _not fuckable_.”

Remus winced, “Right. Fuck. Most of your life –”

“I’ve only been a man to the outside world for like… what? Three years? Not _even_ ,” Elías murmured. “I only began to pass two years ago. It wasn’t until I grew my beard that people stopped calling me she and _still_ , some people look me over like I’m Frankenstein’s monster. When trans men come out of the closet, we aren’t miraculously regarded as men by everyone else – and even if we _are_ , people still need to fucking watch out for their transphobic shit that they don’t realize is transphobic.”

Remus felt his stomach churn, “Like what?”

“Being patronized, infantilized,” Elías said quietly and Remus rubbed the back of his neck, feeling guilt crawl up his spine. “Like I can’t make choices for myself – because of course, I’m a little girl who doesn’t know better. It’s a narrative I’ve been under before, and it’s still very fucking prevalent _today_.”

“I’m sorry,” Remus whispered. “I didn’t realize –”

“Just don’t do it again,” Elías cut in, firmly. “Don’t pretend I can’t make choices for myself. I don’t know if it’s my age or that you know I’ve a vagina and _Gods know_ that we can’t unlearn misogyny all at once but – just don’t fucking do it.”

“Right,” Remus cleared his throat, wondering if he’d ever done that to Lily or Marlene. Dorcas had been an avid feminist, too, called themselves an _angry dyke_. Remus hadn’t known how they could identify as a lesbian and as non-binary at the same time but gender was lost on him and he was very comfortable as a man, so he had no place to talk. Just because _he_ didn’t understand gender didn’t mean that others weren’t allowed to call themselves whatever was most comfortable and real.

“There’s also the reproductive rights thing,” Elías waved a hand. “We’re always left out of the conversation because people love to fucking shit on trans women, as if they’re not the most murdered demographic of all trans people.”

Remus let out a loud breath, uncomfortable, “That… sucks.”

“Did you not know?” Elías asked, looking at him and Remus shook his head. “Huh.”

“Sirius was much more involved, back in the 70’s, mostly in the gay rights movement,” Remus explained, watching Elías grab a pan and throw some olive oil in it. “Like, threw himself fully? But… he was often kicked out of spaces.”

Elías paused, hand tight on the pan before murmuring, “Cause he’s bi, right?”

“Half-hetero,” Remus recalled, moving next to Elías. “And a man.”

Elías laughed, “Gods, _fuck that_. Biphobia and fucking gatekeeping, _just_ what we need.”

“I feel like men need to be encouraged to be feminists,” Remus explained to Elías.

“Men should be fucking encouraged to be feminists,” Elías stated firmly, throwing the onion in. “Otherwise you end up like _this_ , kicking trans men off the platform they need. We really do get shit on by some people who call us fucking _gender traitors_.”

“ _Good Godric_ , what?” Remus breathed.

“You know whom I came out to, the first time?” Elías asked Remus, who was dreading the answer. “Fucking Fawley.”

Remus looked away, rubbing his mouth, “I’m sorry.”

“When I was raped, it was _corrective_ rape. It was to make me feel _like a woman should_ ,” Elías said, lips pursed, glaring at the pan and Remus listened but he felt like he couldn’t stomach this at all. “When I went to a fucking therapist at nineteen and told her about being raped, she told me that I wasn’t trans and that I actually just wanted to take power from my oppressor so I could defend myself.”

Remus made a whiny noise and Elías looked at him while he tried not to throw up but Merlin the _Mighty_ , he really couldn’t stomach anyone doing this to another _human being_.

“I’m sorry,” Elías muttered. “I’ll stop, I –”

“Have you told _anyone_ about this?” Remus interrupted, heart in his throat as he looked at Elías. The Spaniard was wide-eyed, looking _angry_ , though not at Remus himself, just… probably at everyone else. And Remus would be angry if he wasn’t horrified and absolutely bludgeoned by all this.

“No,” Elías replied quietly.

“ _Why_?” Remus reached over but quickly let his hand fall, eyes searching Elías’ face.

“Because nobody wants to listen,” Elías shrugged, focusing back on their lunch while Remus tries to breathe. “I’m a man, who gives a shit? I chose to be a man. So I should suck it up and _man up_ , right?”

“ _Eli_ ,” Remus hissed.

“ _What_?” the Spaniard spat out bitterly. “When I was a woman I was allowed and encouraged to be angry. I’m sorry that I’m still fucking angry after I transitioned.”

“Whomever – whoever told you that you couldn’t be angry is fucking _wrong_ ,” Remus told him, hand on his shoulder, turning Elías to face Remus but Elías watched the wall instead. “People can be fucking _bigots_ and they don’t deserve your time but if you’re _angry_ at them, then you’re in your _right_. You’ve trauma –”

“I’m not allowed because I’m scary if I’m angry,” Elías replied, swallowing. “And I get that women also have trauma with cis men but I’m not a cis fucking man, you know? I’m a _man_ but I’m not fucking _cis_ –”

“Is this why you’re so insistent on being a good person?” Remus asked, suddenly, and Elías looked like he’d been punched in the stomach, making Remus’ heart drop. “ _Elías_ –”

“D’you know how many times I’ve been told to shut up because I’m a man now?” Elías asked, strangled. “Do you know how much it fucking hurts to go your entire fucking life being told to shut up because you’re a woman and then to shut up because you’re a man? You can’t fucking win when you’re trans, Remus, you _can’t_.”

“Elías, you can’t try and save everyone out of guilt of being a _man_ ,” Remus whispered, trying to make him see. “If they’re being transphobic –”

“They don’t _know_ they’re being transphobic because they narrow their view point to a single fucking enemy being _men_. Not even cis, white, rich, able-bodied, pureblood men, Remus, just _men_. So they shit on men of color, on trans men, on bisexual and gay and intersex and ace men and I’m so fucking _tired_ that I’ve to be meek and soft-spoken and feminine and non-threatening to be taken as a _good man_ ,” Elías spat. “Because I’m fucking angry. I’m angry that I need to have a dick to be considered a man, I’m angry that people are still debating on whether I get a say on abortion, I’m angry about being raped and then told to fucking man up and I’m tired that people think that the most feminist thing to do is tell all men that they fucking suck to the point of making _shirts_ with that fucking slogan in glitter font.”

Remus frowned, watching him, not knowing what to say. All his life, he’d had shit thrown at him from other men and women – man up, stop being a fairy, stop laughing like that, stop walking like that, stop liking men, stop this and that but he’d always known that it was a byproduct of the patriarchy and a society ruled by gender norms. He’d sat down and listened to Dorcas as they spoke of their detachment to womanhood followed by a realization that they weren’t at all detached from it, just _bitter_ about how others treated _their_ womanhood.

But he’d never known that these things would affect trans men too, because he’d never _met_ a trans man until now. Remus had always been gay, had always _known_ and his parents hadn’t care at all but other people had – other people had insulted him, belittled him, thrown him and shoved him around because he was less of a man than straight men were.

“I think people have a hard time understanding,” Remus ended up saying, his hands squeezing Elías’ shoulders as the man shook. “They’ve a hard time understanding because we don’t _talk_ about it.”

“We’re discouraged to,” Elías corrected and Remus sighed.

“Gay men are at the front of the rights movement –” he began and Elías threw his hand sup.

“No! No, they’re _not!_ Jesus fucking _Christ!_ Trans people are!” Elías called, making Remus step back as he gestured wildly. “Trans, bi and lesbian _women of color_ have always been at the forefront of every single fucking movement made and I’m sick and tired of people saying that they’re not! The only reason gay white men are everywhere is because they’re more palatable to cisgender, heterosexual people! That’s the only fucking reason! And not even fucking _you_ fall into that because you’re a werewolf and you’re _not rich_. So how’s that for fucking representation?! And fem gay men are shit on! And fat gay men are shit on! Like, what the fuck?! Since when are gender non-comforting men also part of the patriarchy?! Since when is _any_ man that isn’t white, straight and cis _part of the patriarchy_?”

“I don’t know,” Remus replied, because he’d never thought he actually had a problem. Lily had… coddled him, sometimes, for being _visibly_ gay as teenagers. Remus could hide it better now, _knew better_. But back then it’d been worse for him.

“And the richest of this all,” Elías swallowed, hand thrown into his hair. “Is that in trying to determine who is and isn’t oppressed, these people have marginalized trans people who identify within the masculine spectrum. There people are _transphobic_. And they don’t even know that they are.”

“Is that why you… don’t want to come out to everyone else?” Remus asked quietly.

“I don’t have to do _shit_ ,” Elías snarled, taking the spatula and angrily moving the almost-burnt onion there, dumping in the carrots. “I don’t want to broadcast to everyone that they can hurt me by using _she_. I don’t want to be fucking raped again, or patronized, or do _anything_. And if people can’t respect me as a queer, androgynous man without knowing I’m trans when they don’t fucking get to call themselves feminists.”

Remus kept quiet, not knowing what to say. He watched Elías cook for a while and thought about Dorcas, _again_ , because it was the only other transgender person he’d known. He thought of them and how incredibly angry they were and Remus wondered how Dorcas and Elías would’ve gotten along. Sirius and Dorcas had been good friends, especially at the last years of the war – hell, Sirius had taken care of Dorcas’ old dog when they’d been killed. Was Sirius angry, too? He wasn’t trans but… Remus was just _used_ to this all.

Not just as a gay man but as a werewolf, as someone without a fucking penny to his name for years – nobody thought of people like him. And, quite possibly, nobody thought about people like Elías.

The silence stretched for a long time until Remus felt uncomfortable with it, making him end up whispering, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was… it was like this for you.”

“I don’t talk about it for a reason,” Elías murmured, voice strangled and Remus felt a pang on his chest. He seemed ready to cry. “I’ve long been kicked off queer spaces for not being queer enough or not rejecting the masculinity I need to feel whole. Butches suffer from this too, you know? The whole anti-trans shit… it’s not just _men in dresses_ that everyone is worried about. Trans women are plastered all over because it’s easier to demonize men. But there’s books upon books upon books about how us masc trannies are _ruining our poor female bodies_. And how _we just don’t know what we’re doing, we’ve been brainwashed._ ”

“Good Godric,” Remus swallowed.

“Corrective rape is fucking _prevalent_ , especially for trans men,” Elías whispered. “And all we want is to fucking live in peace, you know? But when the usual people hate you and the people who were supposed to be in our own community _also_ hate you like, what do you do? How do you live? A rant from a queer woman saying _I hate all men_ isn’t going to affect me but when that stupid fucking phrase spreads and people buy it and identify with it and you can’t _escape it_ in queer spaces, like, what do you do?”

“Right,” Remus, chewed on the inside of his cheek. “I… I know I’m not trans but I… always hated that phrase, too.”

“Tired of feeling like an enemy to the community who was supposed to uplift people like you and me,” Elías whispered, finally putting the wine in and setting it aside to reduce, moving to grab the meat on the fridge.

Remus said nothing else, wondering if someone like Sirius would have something to say about this. He’d been… learning, back then. Sirius knew a lot of feminist jargon and knew the history but he’d also had his moments, had those phrases that made Lily raise her shoulders and prepare for a fight before she just gave it up and Remus wondered if Elías had those moments where he pulled back from telling someone off.

“I’m sorry,” Elías murmured, suddenly, and Remus turned to him, gaping.

“What?”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t – that was a lot,” Elías whispered, rubbing his face, looking absolutely miserable and Remus felt his throat close up. “I was very angry and I was venting. You haven’t belittled me that much and I’m sure it was my age, I… I just –”

“Don’t apologize for telling me how you feel,” Remus said firmly, wishing Elías would turn and face him but the Slytherin stayed in place. “Don’t apologize for being angry about people belittling you and patronizing you and demonizing you, Elías, don’t you _ever_ say sorry.”

Elías’ head hung for a moment, hand rubbing at his face and he let out a single sob before breathing in and out, nodding.

“Alright,” he rasped.

“Can you look at me? Please?” Remus begged quietly, worried.

Elías took a deep breath, turning to look at Remus, his eyes red and his lower lip shaking. Remus immediately pulled him into a hug, his arms around Elías and Elías clutched at his shirt, burying his face on Remus’ shoulder. Remus held him for a moment, rubbing his back, feeling like he couldn’t do much but _this_ … this he could do.

“Thank you,” Elías muttered.

“Anytime you need someone to listen, I’m here,” Remus assured, brushing Elías’ hair back, sighing. “I know I can’t possibly know what it’s like to be a woman and have to transition and – and all that but… but I can _listen_.”

“That’s all I needed, to be honest,” Elías’ voice broke. “Someone to listen.”

“Well, I’m here,” Remus assured, pulling back to gently cup Elías’ face, thumbs brushing away some stray tears. “Tell me whatever you need to vent, yes?”

“Even the gross trans stuff?” Elías laughed wetly.

“Yes! Even that!” Remus nodded and Elías paused. “Anything, Eli. I mean it.”

“As long as you let me know when it’s too much,” Elías whispered.

“I will,” Remus promised, giving him a small smile. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“Thank you for not thinking I hate women or something,” Elías mumbled and Remus gave a laugh, pulling him back into a hug. “ _Nnnngh_ , I hate it. Being trans sucks. Can you give me your cis?”

“If you take the lycanthropy? _Sure_ ,” Remus snorted.

“Oof, hard bargain you drive – do I get to keep the height?” Elías laughed.

“No way,” Remus grinned, shaking his head.

“Then I’m not taking it,” Elías laughed, moving away from his arms to go grab the rest of their lunch. “Come on, let’s finish this. I’m fucking hungry and I want to finish the entry I was on before Harry comes back home.”

* * *

One of the things Harry enjoyed the most about being with Elías now was just… being able to arrive home tired and not feel like there were any confrontations to be had. He bid goodbye to the Weasley’s, accepted a way-too-tight hug from Molly and stumbled back into El Rompido, hearing jazzy, old music play.

“…nestly one of the worst moments of my life but I _would_ do it again, if it meant –”

“You can’t be serious.”

“For once, I agree with Lupin.”

Harry froze in place, clutching his backpack, blinking as he realized the music had drowned out the subtle sound of the floo network being activated. He could hear Remus, Elías and _Snape_ inside the kitchen and Harry didn’t know how any of them hadn’t seen him yet, his eyes on Remus’ legs as he leaned into the counter, head hidden by the corner of the wall, the corner of the chimney.

“Guys, we agreed –”

“We didn’t agree at _all_ and you still did it and you ended up in the middle of the bay at one in the morning, you do _not_ know what will happen this time, Elías,” Remus spoke, obviously miffed and Harry wondered what they were talking about, holding his breath so he wouldn’t be found.

“Look, all I’m saying is that I’ve had only once Sight since the night I let Pettigrew escape –”

“Elías, you didn’t _let_ anyone escape, Carrow would’ve killed you if Jugson hadn’t been there,” Remus spoke up and Harry felt a spike of hurt – he didn’t know someone had tried to kill Elías that night. Had it been another one of Voldemort’s followers? Had someone _helped_ Pettigrew?

“The _thing_ is – is that I think I’ve to push them now. I’ve to like – like – _activate them_ or some shit! I was in the grand ballroom of the Yaxley Manor when I had my latest one and it was because I was thinking so fucking hard about seeing it with people –”“You did _not_ tell me that,” Snape cut in and Harry swallowed, because Elías hadn’t told him about any Sights, either. Had he been lying about being honest?

“I didn’t tell you because I wanted to wait until Remus was here – plus, we’ve been investigating a bit about seers and the like all morning? And I’ve been making some progress with the stupid journal,” Elías spoke, Harry pressing his back against the brick of the chimney and trying not to make himself noticeable.

“Didn’t we _say_ –”

“Look, say whatever the fuck you want, Sev, but I had a fucking out-of-this-world Sight where I saw someone holding that book. It’s important. I’m reading it. End of the conversation, alright?”

“You’re not going to try and do it again, are you?” Remus asked quietly.

There a pause after that and Harry wished desperate that he knew what they were talking about, listening in closely past the music and the sound of oil spitting in a pan.

“I’m not going to,” Elías seemed to finally say and Harry heard two relieved sighs. “I… I don’t know if it would harm me. And now it’s not just a mere moment of fucking – terrifying shit happening to me. It’s also about Harry.”

Harry froze, green eyes wide.

“I’m glad to see you come to your senses,” Snape said dryly. “But you should also do it for _your_ safety, not just for the child.”

“My safety is Harry’s freedom and happiness, at least for now,” Elías sighed and Harry swallowed, hand against his mouth so he wouldn’t make a noise. “And especially since he hasn’t seen me having a Sight – because it _will_ freak him out. It freaks everyone out. I want to ease him onto it but I… I just haven’t found the time.”

“You’ve _told_ him –”

“Sev, the kid is not an idiot.”

Harry grinned, actually glad to see that Elías wasn’t indefinitely hiding things from him, just finding the right time. So far, every time he’d said it, it’d been true. Harry knew that he could trust Elías, Blaise was _absolutely_ wrong about him.

“He would’ve figured it out, somehow, _especially_ living with me, alright?” Elías said, moving around the kitchen. “Pass me – thank you, yes. But what I mean is that – not even… fuck, like, the kid defeated Voldemort, right? He’s got something. And if things go bad, if he has a problem, if he has _anything_ going on with him, I want him to have an adult he can trust, someone he can talk with about it. Otherwise he’ll just keep shit to himself and do you _know_ how detrimental that would be for Harry?”

“We understand, Elías,” Remus said softly, voice soothing. “We do. We’re just saying that – that maybe you should care about your health, too, not just Harry’s, alright?”

“Right… right, yes. Uh – yes,” Elías said awkwardly.

“Give me that spatula – and _sit down_ ,” Snape scowled, Harry could almost picture it. “You and Lupin have been studying all morning, did any of you come across anything interesting or useful?”

“Well,” Elías’ voice suddenly came closer and Harry panicked before just stumbling out noisily, almost bumping into his guardian, Elías rushing to grab Harry’s shoulders. “Harry!” he gasped, surprised before letting out a snort, brushing through his curls. “Oh dear. You’ve got a bad case of floo hair. Soot all over you!”

“Sorry,” Harry said immediately and Elías gave him a soft, kind smile that just made Harry feel… bad for listening in. He shouldn’t have done that. Elías trusted him.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault and it’s not hurting anyone,” Elías chuckled, looking at his own hand to see some soot on it, laughing. “Go throw those clothes to the hamper, yes? And take a shower, you smell a bit,” he chuckled, making Harry nod. “Dinner will be ready in no time – and Draco is coming over so _no fighting_.”

Harry froze, immediately making a face, “Malfoy’s coming over?”

“He’s under my care for a week,” Snape spoke up, arms crossed and eyes narrowed at Harry, who narrowed his eyes back at him. “Thus, he is coming here.”

“Right,” Harry grunted and Remus seemed amused, chuckling softly into his hand. “Are you staying for dinner, too, Remus?” Harry asked desperately.

“If you want me to,” he smiled at Harry, who nodded rapidly. “Then I’ll stay.”

“Alright. Alright, fine,” Harry stated before walking to the hallway, leaving Elías grinning to himself, watching him go.

“He was listening in, wasn’t he?” Remus hummed, walking next to Elías.

“Absolutely,” Elías snorted, laughing. “But he can’t ask me shit about it. Very well, it’s just fine. He’ll eventually learn more about my Sights, anyway.”

“Still don’t know why he should,” Severus pulled the pan out of the oven, setting it aside as he grabbed the pasta and Elías rushed to put the strainer over the sink. “He’s a thirteen year old boy, he shouldn’t know –”

“Again, Sev,” Elías sighed. “There’s no harm in him knowing I have Sights. He’d know about them eventually. And there are things that I do want to tell him about James and Lily and Sirius and the like. He deserves to know them, yeah?”

“Hm,” was all Severus said, pursing his lips.

“Unless you want to offer some stories?” Remus asked, making Severus tense. “About Lily’s childhood –”

“I’d rather _not_ ,” Severus immediately snapped, making Elías throw him a warning look and Severus took a deep breath. “I do not want to, Lupin.”

“That’s alright,” Remus replied easily and Elías smiled, proud of the two of them.

“Why don’t you go and get Draco?” Elías suggested to Severus, the potioneer glancing at him. “Dinner is basically ready, go get him.”

“Very well,” Severus hummed, walking through the chimney and Remus let out a deep sigh.

“You know, every time I think I can convince you, you let me know that only Severus can,” Remus told Elías, giving him a playful hipcheck, Elías laughing. “First it’s Sirius, now it’s you. My words always fall on deaf ears.”

“That’s not true,” Elías cooed at him, pinching Remus’ cheek softly. “You’re just simply… softer. Severus looks at me wrong and my fight or flight instincts are activated.”

“Right,” Remus laughed, shaking his head before whispering. “But he’s right, you know. You should take care of yourself.”

“That instinct is not really sharpened, honestly,” Elías mumbled as he finished mixing the sauce and pasta together. “Dunno if it’s the Spanish in me or just the Fernández in me.”

“You should definitely sharpen it,” Remus scolded gently, leaning towards Elías with a small frown. “And I am not joking now, Eli. You can’t – you _can’t_ live for everyone else. You’ve to take care of yourself and make sure that you’re healthy and well. Ask for help when you need it, let others help you. Yes?”

“Yes,” Elías replied softly, sighing, turning to Remus as the werewolf kept staring at him, his pale greens on Elías’ blues.

“Promise me that you’ll think more often about yourself,” he murmured.

“I promise, alright?” Elías whispered back, looking down at his hand when Remus lifted his chin, making Elías’ heart skip a bit. He’d never get over these casual touches.

“Look at me when you promise things, please,” Remus said quietly.

“I _promise_ ,” Elías repeated, this time honestly, looking at Remus in the eye and the werewolf nodded, seemingly satisfied, leaning down to kiss Elías’ forehead just before Harry came back, freshly showered and clean. The other day Elías had gotten him some new clothes and Harry looked _so_ much better with things that actually fit him and didn’t hang off him. Yellows looked especially good with his skin and Elías smiled. “Oh, I really like that one!”

“Me too, I’ve never had clothes of my own,” Harry grinned, moving to sit on the stool as Remus leaned against the counter. “Are you staying over all night, Remus?”

“Ah, I don’t know about that,” Remus replied, a bit embarrassed. “I’m sure Elías –”

“You could,” Elías interrupted, smiling at him and Remus blinked, surprised. “Oh, come on. You’ve stayed over before. The kid wants you around. Are you going to say no?”

“W-well,” Remus spluttered, surprised.

“Are you?” Harry added, letting his eyes go big as an owl’s, almost pouting and Remus seemed caught, making Elías giggle. Remus couldn’t say no to Harry and they both knew it.

“Are you?” Elías added, making Remus turn to him and Elías pouted hard.

“Oh, _alright_ ,” Remus sighed, making Harry drop his forehead on Remus’ shoulder, the boy grinning widely. “I’ll stay over but I have to go get some pajamas, yes? I’m not an _animal_.”

“Bet Sirius would have something witty to say about that,” Elías threw and Remus pointed a finger at him, laughing.

“Shut up. Of course he would. Shut your gob, you’re not him.”

“Are we sure about that?” Elías smirked.

“Just because you two are bi disasters doesn’t mean that you’re the same,” Remus gave him a stare and Elías laughed, not noticing how Harry looked up, surprised.

“Oh,” Harry murmured, eyes wide. “What’s – what’s bi?”

Elías had a feeling that he knew but he answered anyway, smiling at Harry, “Bisexual. I don’t – hm. I don’t really like labeling my sexuality so I go by queer but I don’t mind being called gay or bi. I’m into… people, I guess. No preference, no anything.”

“You…” Harry blinked hard. “Wait, is that allowed?”

Elías burst out laughing and Remus grinned, shaking his head before turning to Harry, “Absolutely allowed. Your godfather is completely bisexual and has been for as long as I’ve known him.”

“And you?” Harry asked quietly.

“Ah,” Remus flushed a bit. “I am… only into men, Harry.”

“Oh, like Seamus,” Harry nodded, giving him a smile, making Remus relax.

“Yes. Yes, like – like Seamus,” his posture gave away his relief and Elías gave them both a soft smile, glad that Harry and Remus could talk openly of this.

“And Snape?” Harry asked curiously, making Elías snort.

“Pretty sure he’s straight,” he said and Remus turned to him, eyebrows raised, Harry looking confused.

“Right,” Remus replied, amused, and Elías gave him a death glare just as the chimney lit up, Draco and Severus walking in. Draco looked upset and Elías paused, glancing at Severus, whose jaw was tight. Elías tried to look welcoming, giving Draco a smile.

“Hello, Draco! Goodnight – how has your weekend been?” he asked.

“Fine,” he murmured, eyes on Elías’ shoulder.

“Good night, Draco,” Remus greeted and Draco nodded.

Harry and Draco then ignored each other – and did so for the entirety of dinner, which would’ve been a tense affair had Elías not taken the role of conversationalist for the night. He asked the boys about their plans for July, about the Quidditch Cup and about other activities they’d done and slowly, they filled the silence. Severus did not speak a word and Elías worried about whatever had happened at Spinner’s End. Was Draco alright? Was Severus?

“I’ll help with the dishes,” Severus stated when dinner was over and Elías stood quickly from the garden table, communicating silently with Remus to keep in check the two teenagers currently sulking. Harry hadn’t told Elías that he was uncomfortable or fearful, though, which was at least a step forward.

Elías brought all the dirty dishes inside, closing the backdoor to the garden and he let out a loud sigh while Severus swiped his wand, cleaning the plates one by one, jaw still locked.

“Hey,” Elías spoke up softly, walking over but Severus didn’t turn to him, simply grunting. “What happened?”

“I cannot tell you,” Severus pursed his lips. “Private matters of Draco. But I can say, though, that I am very tired of his attitude towards the external world.”

Elías blinked, “Uh… what?”

“What other people say of him or think of him do not matter,” Severus stated firmly. “Yet the boy is _obsessed_ with it all. Picks at his own hair and his own clothes and is scared to be in places with too many people. There is something, which I cannot tell you, that I believe is what is prompting this but by _Salazar’s beard_ , I think it’s _foolish_.”

“That boy is fourteen,” Elías said dryly, frowning at Severus and crossing his arms. “Teenagers are always worried about what everyone else thinks. It’s the age where they develop the way they interact with the world, Severus, of _course_ he’s going to have issues.”

“To the point of harming himself?” Severus hissed.

Elías froze, heart stopping, “W… _what_?”

“He pulls his hair,” Severus whispered, swallowing hard, watching Elías’ dishes intensely. “I caught him pulling on his _hair_. Clumps of it. I can heal it, I can make it grow but it does not erase the fact that he is _doing it_.”

Elías frowned deeply, hand running through his own hair, taking a deep breath, “He needs therapy, then.”

“Is that your answer for _everything_?” Severus finally turned to him as he finished cleaning, looking absolutely on edge and Elías didn’t blame him.

“ _Yes_ , actually,” Elías replied, hands on his hips. “The boy has something, doesn’t he? Low self-esteem, too. He blames himself, he’s maybe got some sort of anxiety!”

“Like you?” Severus paused, frowning. “…that would make sense.”

“I will not speculate on what he could have, but I _am_ going to talk to Narcissa and Lucius about some psychologists he could go see,” Elías stated, sighing. “I bet Quidditch isn’t making it better,” Elías then had a thought, hand moving to Severus’ arm. “…Sev?”

“Yes?” the potioneer asked slowly.

“Does he _like_ Quidditch?” Elías asked and Severus spluttered.

“What do you _mean_ , does he _like_ Quidditch? He doesn’t talk about anything else!” Severus replied, throwing his hands up.

“Right, right, I just – nevermind, it was just a hunch,” Elías shook his head, sighing, turning to look through the window at the gardens, when Remus was trying to engage the two teenagers into a conversation, wildly unsuccessful. “I’ll tell Narcissa and Lucius.”

“They do know that he pulls on his hair,” Severus said quietly. “And they think it’s because of – of that which I cannot tell you. But –” he grunted. “I hate having to keep privacy. You surely would know the answer,” he sighed, hand rubbing over his mouth. “But it is Draco’s to tell you.”

“Is this the thing Avery mentioned?” Elías frowned, turning to Severus.

“I cannot say.”

“Right, right,” Elías sighed, confused and a bit frustrated. “Well, he needs to talk to a professional about this. If the boy has anxiety and maybe some impulses that harm him, then he needs medical help. And yes, Severus, a lot of people need therapy.”

“Hm,” Severus replied, still looking like his entire body was locked and Elías gave him a soft look, hand reaching for his cheek, making Severus’ eyes snap from Draco to Elías, shoulders immediately lowering from that tense stance. “…forgive me. I’ve been… hostile, this dinner.”

“It’s understandable, you’re worried,” Elías whispered, brushing the apple of his cheek with his thumb, having to go on his tiptoes to do so. “It’ll be alright. As long as he gets the help he needs, I’m sure he’ll get better. Draco has a wonderful family, wonderful friends. A good support system is crucial.”

“Right,” Severus murmured, nodding, swallowing. “I’m – I’m worried,” he confessed.

“Understandable,” Elías gave a smile. “He’s your godson. You love him very much.”

“I do,” Severus admitted, and it was good to see him say so without shame, without hiding. He loved that boy and that was it. “He’s like a nephew to me.”

“I know,” Elías hugged him quickly, pulling back to give him an encouraging smile. “We’ll figure all this out, yes? For now, tell him that you’re here for him, in case he wants to talk more about what he’s going through. Encourage him to socialize, to be with his friends, and pass summertime with them. Take him to Bluehill or to Szeged with everyone else.”

“Right,” Severus nodded curtly.

“And be kind to yourself,” Elías added, poking the middle of his chest, Severus looking surprised at the statement. “A lot of times we can’t just magically fix things in the moment. Especially mental problems. Those take time, patience, perseverance. You’re doing whatever you can for him – you’re taking care of Draco.”

Severus looked like he wanted to say something but he just locked his jaw again and nodded curtly, making Elías internally sigh. One day, Severus would speak to him without reservations. Not tonight, but one day.

“I made homemade ice cream,” Elías told him, patting his chest. “Let’s bring out some bowls. I know Harry loves it.”

“So does Draco – raspberry,” Severus murmured, making Elías smiled.

“I’ll make some the next time you two come,” he promised and, to his surprise, Severus managed a smile.


	10. Comfort and Understanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm so sorry about the delay in chapter, but a few things have been happening in the background, in my personal life, and I needed a little break before heading full into writing. Thank you so much for your patience, and please read the following;
> 
> If you want to debate and counter and argue about trans people's lived experiences, then go somewhere else, not in my comments. You are not welcome, your Tumblr feminism circa 2016 without nuance or study is not welcome and your sockpuppets are definitely not welcome. If you put a comment that doesn't discuss the story in a civilized and open manner, I can and will delete your comment. This is MY therapy fic, this is MY self-indulgent fic and this is MY safe trans space. Find yourself a cis fic if you're that pressed about trans people speaking up.
> 
> On the other hand, thanks everyone who left such sweet and understanding comments! This chapter has a lot of sweetness but also a lot of bittersweet and sad moments, so tread with caution.
> 
> Trigger Warnings for this Chapter:  
> \- Discussion of alcoholism  
> \- AA Meeting  
> \- Discussion of car accident  
> \- Discussion of murder  
> \- Discussion of death  
> \- Discussion of survivor's guilt  
> \- Discussion of cult tactics  
> \- Discussion of cults  
> \- Discussion of war  
> \- Discussion of therapy

Elías cleaned the muggle way often, as it helped him clear his head and after such an awkward and disastrous dinner, he threw himself into cleaning the garden and the kitchen while Remus and Harry settled on the couch to watch TV. Remus had wanted to help but Elías had pushed him towards the kid, telling him to enjoy whatever movie Harry wanted to watch. Elías took in the conversation that those two had, mostly Harry explaining muggle mechanics and references and Remus pointing out that he understood something or other. In the end, they stayed silent.

And when Elías finished sweeping, he understood why they were silent, putting the broom away and walking over to the couch, greeted with the most adorable sight.

Elías smiled, hand rubbing over his cheek, watching the light of the TV reflect off Harry’s skewed glasses, his cheek mushed against Remus’ shoulder, curled up tight against the werewolf. He was fast asleep, breathing quietly, but Remus’ snores drowned it out. The other Gryffindor was leaned back against the backrest, arm over the back of the couch, mouth open and head thrown back. It reminded Elías of his own father, in a way, and he tried not to laugh. What a picture.

Gently, Elías turned off the TV and pulled off Harry’s glasses carefully, leaving the two of them without blankets since it was the middle of July. Harry’s birthday was coming up in a few weeks and Elías watched the boy for a moment, thinking that if he was able to fall asleep so comfortably against Remus in Elías’ couch, then maybe they were doing something right.

On Monday, the next morning, Elías found them both still asleep and further into the couch – a wet spot of drool on Remus’ shirt and Remus’ cheek now resting against the top of Harry’s hair. Elías spent an ungodly amount of time just watching them both, leaning against the archway, eyes tender, feeling something warm deep within his chest at the sight. Harry, who had grown up without Lily and James, whose best friend was now with an arm around him, protecting him. And Remus, who had lost two of his best friends, now with the product of their love in his arms. Harry and Remus, asleep together on the couch.

So maybe he took his polaroid and took a picture, _sue him_.

Well, Elías was getting _sappy_ and it was the morning and there was much, much to do, so he got to cooking breakfast, trying not to make too much noise for them. Inevitably, though, drawn in by the sound and smell of sizzling bacon and eggs, Remus walked in – rumpled, hair a mess, eyes half-shut and looking absolutely adorable, making Elías grin.

“ _Buenos días_ ,” he greeted, cheery, beaming at him.

“Neck hurts,” Remus grunted but he approached Elías and leaned against him, chin resting on the top of his head and Elías laughed quietly, arms moving around Remus’ middle. “Why didn’t you wake up us?”

“You two looked cozy, didn’t want to break it,” Elías replied against his shoulder.

“Hm,” the werewolf yawned, pulling back to stretch, his shirt riding up to show a trail of golden hair leading to –

Elías looked back to the pan, cheeks burning, spatula working on their breakfast before he began to set it over the plates. Remus got the coffee machine working and then got out some tea for himself, making Elías hum.

“I got you some Earl Grey –”

“I see it, yes,” Remus smiled, giving him a grateful look. “You didn’t have to.”

“You spend so much time with us, I thought it’d be good to have stuff you like, too,” Elías chuckled, hipchecking him, Remus just shaking his head with a smile. “Did you sleep well, in any case?”

“I did,” Remus confessed quietly, lips quirking up. “I… last night was fun. Harry is a very bright and smart boy – when he wants to be,” he added teasingly and Elías laughed.

“Now I’ve to keep him on his toes about grades, hmm?” Elías told him before he felt something stir in him. “I just hope he understands that I know what it’s like to slip up. Gods know I’ve had a terrible times with studying and the like.”

“Right. Sixth Year for you, right?” Remus glanced at him.

“Sixth Year was awful,” Elías sighed deeply. “It was – it was just _bad_.”

“I feel like Sixth Year was my worst year at Hogwarts, too,” Remus sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hopefully, Harry breaks the cycle, huh?”

“Hopefully,” Elías snorted before throwing into the pan a few more eggs, knowing Harry liked them runny and with a lot of pepper. He said a quiet _gracias_ as Remus handed him a mug of coffee, taking a long sip. “Today Corban’s off to another meeting and this time I’m pretty sure I’m gonna be gone for the whole afternoon. He seems determined to just run through it, at least the first meeting.”

“Can be hard, the first time for anything,” Remus pointed out, taking the kettle out of the fire and serving himself one full mug of hot water, sliding his teabag inside. “Honestly, I think he’ll be able to do it. He’s made it so far, so – I think he’s got the guts.”

“Not just guts,” Elías sighed, looking down at the swirl of foam in his coffee. “In any case, my parents offered to take care of Harry today and I’m a little nervous because if he wants to come back or if he’s uncomfortable or anything, I’m – I’m not going to be there to calm him down.”

“You won’t always be there to calm him down,” Remus told him and Elías groaned, nodding.

“I know, I _know_ , and I don’t want to become a _helicopter parent_ , you know? M’not even his father,” Elías mumbled into his mug, sighing after he took a long sip. “It’s more about… how he’s around all these new people and all these new things and I’m afraid that he doesn’t feel he’s in a safe environment. He told me he doesn’t mind going with my parents and I _know_ he has to get used to them but…” Elías grunted. “Don’t like that I can’t be there.”

“Your parents are good people,” Remus nudged Elías’ foot with his. “Not just that, _you_ are an extension of your parents. Harry will – he is _able to see_ that, I’m pretty sure. You even use the same cadence as your father.”

“Do I?” Elías asked, surprised.

“Mhmm,” Remus nodded, leaning against the counter. “And I mean, why don’t you just ask him if he’s alright going with them?”

“I already did and he said yes,” Elías pulled the eggs out onto Harry’s plate, thankful that he hadn’t broken the yolk. “I’m just worried, I guess.”

“Trust him,” Remus insisted, hand moving to grip Elías’ fingers, pulling the Spaniard closer to him. Elías rested a hand against the counter by Remus’ hip, chewing on his lower lip and Remus gently pulled it out, making Elías’ heart race. “Harry will be fine.”

“Alright,” Elías murmured, nodding, face dropping against Remus’ chest and the Gryffindor wrapped him in a hug, making Elías groan. “What would I do without you?”

“Perish, surely,” Remus laughed, kissing the top of his head. “Thank you for letting me… be a part of his life, Eli.”

“You deserve to be. Not only would you have been were Lily and James here, but Harry also wants you to be part of his life. Of course you should be here,” Elías hugged him tight, making Remus sigh.

“Right,” he murmured.

“You know,” Elías pulled back, suddenly smiling brightly, making Remus blink. “Why don’t we have a little barbecue for lunch today, hmm? Let’s – let’s try and see if we can get Ron and Hermione here, maybe invite the entirety of the Weasley’s! We can – we can do some work to connect _and_ reconnect with other families so Harry can see the whole range of adults that support him.”

“That’d be a good idea,” Remus smiled softly.

“We could – oh, good _morning_ , sleepyhead,” Elías laughed as Harry walked in, still wearing yesterday’s clothes and trying to look at the two professors without glasses. “Sleep well?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed before approaching Remus, the closest to him, and just… leaning against him, Remus quickly wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulders with a tender look. “Tired. And hungry.”

“Well, breakfast is done,” Elías told him, chuckling, lifting Harry’s chin up and brushing his cheek with a thumb. “Made eggs and bacon.”

“Yummy,” Harry smiled tiredly.

“Come on. To the table,” Elías called, moving the plates to the dining table and Harry slid to his now usual place. It made Elías feel good, to know Harry liked a certain chair, a certain place, that he probably thought was _his_. Remus sat right next to the kid, brushing his hair back from his eyes.

“It’s getting kind of long,” the werewolf pointed out.

“I like it,” Harry shrugged. “Elías has it long.”

Elías blinked as he put his plate in front of him, surprised, “You want to keep it long, Harry?”

“Aunt Petunia wouldn’t let me,” Harry scrunched up his nose. “I want to keep it long.”

“Alright,” Elías smiled, laughing. “Then you better know how to take care of it, hmm? Long hair takes some work and yours is very thick and beautiful. So keep that in mind.”

“Yes, sir,” he nodded, reaching for his fork and waiting until everyone was served to finally dig in. “Mm – today I’m going with Lourdes and Juan, right?”

“Mhmm,” Elías nodded, reaching for his mug. “Will you be alright?”

“Yeah! Juan told me that we’re going to go fishing and I’ve never gone fishing!” Harry said, excitedly, making Remus perk up.

“I really enjoy it, used to do it a lot with my father,” he smiled.

“How’s Lyall?” Elías asked.

“Busy lately. The office has been crazy what with…” he glanced at Harry, smirking. “You know. What is coming in September.”

“Wait, what is coming in September?” Harry asked.

“Things,” Elías replied mysteriously, giving Remus a wink and the werewolf laughed. “We can’t say, Harry. It’s official school business. But _things_ are coming.”

“Right,” Harry said, unimpressed, eyebrows lifting as he looked between the two professors. “You two are so weird.”

That just prompted Elías and Remus to grin and laugh a bit, the boy rolling his eyes good-naturedly as the three wizards enjoyed breakfast and a soft summer morning.

* * *

"Alright," Elías chirped, hands on his hips, Severus next to him as the three Slytherins stood in front of the town center in King's Point. The building looked very much the same as it had on Friday, the small café in front of it filled with people and there are some teenagers in skateboard milling about, people walking their dogs... it was a perfectly peaceful town and a perfectly peaceful summer afternoon.

And Corban felt like he was ready to throw up.

"Alright," he mumbled and felt Severus step a bit closer to him, protecting him, almost. "Let's do this, then."

He could see a few familiar faces; coffee-Chester, again carrying a coffee maker followed by the woman with the tray of biscuits; people that had come up to introduce themselves last time, but he couldn't remember their names; no sign of Aiden outside, though.

"I've got this," Corban said, strangled, and he felt Severus' hand on his shoulder, making him turn to his best friend. "I-I-I got it, Severus."

"You call me for and I will come," he said firmly, making Corban's stomach churn with gratefulness and love for this man, his best friend, nodding quickly. "One word and I'm there."

"Alright," he croaked, nodding jerkily.

"We'll be waiting outside, having some coffee," Elías' voice was gentle and kind, giving Corban a smile. "We're _right outside_."

"I won't be long," Corban told them, taking a deep breath before stumbling inside, nearly running into Aiden's back, the tall man quickly gripping his arm before Corban could fall. " _Fuck_! Uh - I mean, _heck_ ," he mumbled, prompting Aiden to laugh.

"No problem, man, no problem. It's good to see that you could make it," Aiden said, giving Corban's shoulder a pat before he let his arm drop.

"Thank you, uh - I said I'd come here and... I always keep my word," Corban mumbled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck as he took a deep breath. “That, at least, drink had never changed.”

Aiden nodded, "I can understand that. I have a cousin with the same mindset.”

“Right,” Corban replied, just so _fucking_ awkward. Aiden didn’t seem to mind, though, and they made their way across the waiting room and into the now familiar meeting room. The few people that had already arrived were milling about and choosing their seats.

Aiden motioned to the table of snacks, "Grab something, if you want, and make yourself comfortable."

Corban actually moved to the snack table this time and grabbed some coffee for himself, even though he'd already had a cup today – it wasn’t good for him but… what the hell? Why not? He took a deep breath as the machine gurgled, thankful that he was now familiar with contraptions like these thanks to Elías. Maybe - maybe he should get a muggle studies book or something, learn about them. Or maybe he should hang out more with Elías _._

"Pardon me?"

A voice at his elbow drew his attention and when Corban turned, he saw the person who had mentioned relapsing multiple times at the last meeting. Corban’s heart jumped to his throat and he tried to speak but found himself completely muted. They seemed to understand, though.

"Corban, right? I'm Alix, I don't think I introduced myself last time. I wanted to apologize for freaking you out at the last meeting." Their bright brown eyes watched him with guilt and Corban stared for a moment, his fight or flight instinct activated before he took a deep breath and managed to nod.

"I'm - I'm Corban," he rasped, even putting his hand out for shaking. "Don't be sorry, I'm uh... just kind of a coward," he laughed weakly.

"Still, I tend to be uh... a bit blunt about these things. I forget I don't have to be like that here." Alix shrugged. "Y'know what else I think? It takes a bit of courage to be here."

"I'm not good with courage, but I think I'm pretty good at persistence," Corban admitted quietly.

"I'm here because of spite!" Alex grinned widely and Corban found himself laughing, watching them with a lopsided grin.

"Oh, spite is good. I've a friend who runs on pure spite," Corban laughed, thinking of Avery's sharp grins.

Alix rocked forward onto their toes, snagging a biscuit. They held out a small slip of paper. "My address, in case you want to write. I know we're supposed hand out phone numbers but my mum would flip if I started getting phone calls."

Corban startled, not expecting it and he slowly took the slip of paper, looking at it. "For... letters?"

"Yeah, like I said, mum would flip if I started getting phone calls. So I just have a bunch of pen pals,” they shrugged.

"I-I see," he muttered, watching the letters as they swam in front of his vision. "I'll uh - I'll keep it in mind."

"You don't have to write if you don't want just... it's an option, y'know,” Alix told him honestly and Corban nodded quickly.

"I know, I know, I just..." he took a deep breath, pocketing it. "I'll keep it mind. Thank you."

With a nod, Alix bounced off, leaving Corban wondering if he himself ever had that much energy, especially in an AA meeting. Corban stood for a moment, waiting for the coffee machine to gurgle out his coffee before finally finding his seat, sipping the not-too-bad cup he'd gotten himself.

A few others stopped by to say hi, to tell him that they were happy to see him again. That they hoped he was feeling better, and a few more gave him little slips of paper with their name written above a little string numbers.

"In case you ever want to call," they all said and Corban was only getting more confused by the second. Call what? How? Corban was endlessly baffled about the numbers but he nodded and kept them in his pocket, saying his quiet thanks and just waiting for the meeting to begin, eyes fleeting around the room.

Yet again, once everyone was settled, Aiden called the room to attention. His speech hasn’t changed much from Corban's first meeting, emphasizing supporting each other and ensuring that everyone knew they weren’t alone in this. Then the new people all introduced themselves. There were other faces Corban hadn't seen before and he made sure to listen to them this time, headspace much different than the first time he'd come. It wasn't so scary now, when he knew what to expect.

When Aiden opened the floor for people to share their stories and discussions, the fear wasn't as strong. He listened as one of the new people, Jessica, shared her story. How she started drinking in college because that's just what was cool. She lived the college life of the movies, partying hard at night and slogging through schoolwork by day. After college she just couldn't seem to stop, but she was sure she had everything under control. Until she passed out drunk at the wheel and her car slammed through the front room window of someone's house.

"I could have killed a member of that family," Jessica said, tears streaming down her face. "The judge says I have to be here, but honestly I would be here regardless. I can't keep up this habit where myself and someone else might die because of my drinking."

Corban swallowed, hands fleeting and he wished he could talk, he wished he could say something, anything but the words were clogged in his throat. It took a few tries, for his vision to stop swimming and his head to stop spinning but, finally, he managed to raise his hand - shaky and weak, everyone turning to him, and all he could actually get out was, "I w-w-was in a cult."

The ripple of shock that ran over the room was palpable, everyone frozen in their seats, watching him. It felt reminiscent to the hospital, when the nurse had seen his Dark Mark and everyone had watched him with horror, others with hatred. He saw no such thing now, in everyone’s eyes, just… pity.

"Hi, uh- my -" he choked, cutting himself off.

Corban swallowed, hands rubbing his face tightly. "My name... my name is Icarus. I go by Corban now and I was... I was in a - a cult," Corban saw blurry, couldn't focus on anything so he just let his eyes do what they needed to, heart beating loudly. His blood pumped in his ears. "My - I - I was pulled... pulled in by my family. I was born into it. They... were killed in an explosion, trying - trying t-to get rid of evidence from... the government and s-so, my - my wife and I were... alone," he swallowed, eyes on his shoes, shaking. "She was murdered in front of m-me. With - with uh, four months left for my baby girl. Jane. I... I saw the c-cult leader kill her.”

The silence was deafening and Corban stared at his open palms, counting the scars on them, trying to remember when he'd gotten each before he was ready to speak again, voice raspy but less stuttery.

"I suppose drinking and forgetting was easier than... than everything else. Couldn't escape it all. My wife died. My daughter died. One of my best friends tried to escape, I think, and he died somehow. Nobody found his body. I was left in a big - big bloody mansion with white walls and all I could do was... drink. Drink and drink and drink. And it’s easier to feel because whenever I don’t drink I just... I feel _nothing_ ," he wheezed. "I feel absolutely nothing."

When he finally looked up, he noticed many sympathetic faces, a few nodding heads, as if they understood, on some level. Corban doubted it – Corban doubted that any of them had seen it.

“I’ve done terrible things,” he confessed quietly. “And I know I was brainwashed, I know me and my friends and my wife and my family all were brainwashed but… it never takes away the guilt. All the –” he swallowed, watching his hands. “All the lives lost. We killed each other and we killed others, all for the words of a false prophet. And sometimes I wonder what is real and what is fake, what was… what was happy or what was fabricated joy. Because I don’t _know_ anymore.”

There was no wisdom for this one from other members and Corban knew why - nobody could fucking deal with this, least of all himself. Of course nobody would have a quick answer, a little slogan or some funny story to tell about their own cult. Corban's situation was absurdly unique.

He felt much, much lonelier than he had in years, in that moment.

There was silence for a while, nobody speaking, and Aiden quietly urged everyone else to speak, a man clearing his throat, drawing some attention.

"Hi, my name is Eddie. My uh... my dad rolled our car. We'd gone north to visit family, and uh... it was a long drive back home. My dad was driving, my mum, my brother and sister and me were all asleep. So... none of us saw the deer that ran in front of the car. We were woken up by my dad shouting and swerving out of the car and then it started rolling and... and... it sounded like the world was physically being torn apart. I was thrown from the car and whatever I hit knocked me out. Woke up in the hospital. Mom and dad were dead, my brother dead. Just me left, and my sister. I suddenly had to become the parent and I just... I couldn't handle it. The bottle made it easier because at least then I felt something other than... numbness and static."

Corban watched him, stomach rolling, looking at Eddie's worn eyes and worn clothes and rough hands. So at least someone did it to feel, too.

"They go so sudden, don't they?" Corban rasped, drawing his attention. "One moment they're there and... the next they're not. And suddenly you realize how much they did for you, managed for you, protected you."

"And I felt like such an ass,” Eddie added, “Because... I never realized. Never stopped to think what they did for us until it was too late."

"And worst of all is - is just the thought that out of everyone who deserved to live... _you_ are the one who's alive," Corban laughed, hand running through his hair, choking out, "I know damn well my brother deserved to live. Much more than I ever did. Ever have."

"My sister deserves to have her actual parents. Not... the farce I brought to the table."

"Thankfully, I'm alone in my home now and I can't fuck anyone up," Corban confessed, saying this aloud for the first time and Chester, sitting beside him, suddenly moved his hand and slapped Corban's shoulder with surprising strength. "Ow!” Eyes wide, Corban watched the muggle man, stunned. “What... what was that for?"

"You two are what? Twenty? Thirty? Whole life ahead of you and you've already counted yourselves as failures?" He asked gruffly. "You've both had incredibly awful things happen! Dealing with trauma on top of having to care for someone else, in your case, Eddie? Almost an impossible task! And you, Corban, being surrounded by family and by an upcoming family before being suddenly alone? Awful!"

Corban swallowed, watching Chester, not knowing what to say.

"Dealing with loneliness and with newfound responsibilities are both strenuous burdens," Chester told them firmly. "Being hard on yourselves for having a difficult time with them is nonsensical."

"A little gruffer than I would put it," Aiden said, rubbing his forehead.

"That's why you're you and I'm me," Chester raised his brows and Corban looked at Eddie as the man seemed to take it all in.

"I just wonder why it was me, who survived, out of the... sixteen? twenty? Of us that survived?" Corban laughed dryly before quickly going quiet as not to sob. "I have nightmares about it. I can't listen to a thunderstorm without getting a fucking panic attack. I drink to forget and I drink to remember. I drink to feel. I drink when I wake up, when I need to go to sleep. I think of drinking every waking moment."

"Unfortunately that is a question you may never find an answer too. Survivor's guilt is something you have to be careful not to fall too deep into it. Accept the feelings, the guilt and grief, but do not let them overwhelm you," Aiden said. "If those feelings begin to overwhelm you, reach out to your support group or therapist."

"I - I'm sorry, what is survivor's guilt?" Corban asked tiredly.

"It's something people experience when they survive something that others don't. Especially if that event was traumatic, or those that died were close to the person who survived. The survivor somehow feels responsible, even though the events were out of their control." Aiden leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling as he spoke. "You see it a lot in war veterans, first responders, cancer survivors and organ transplant recipients, those who survived natural disasters."

 _Or cults_ , Corban thought, swallowing hard as he watched Aiden before taking in a deep breath, hand running over his face.

"I want to stop drinking," he told everyone, because he truly did. "I want to stop drinking, because I... I still have people that I love. My best friend... his father was a drunk. And a complete _bastard_. And absolute -" he swallowed. "I only wish I was better than this."

"It's important to hold onto that," Alix said, eyes distant. "You want to change overnight but people just don't _work_ that way. So you need to have your reasons and your goals, and you need to hold onto them as tight as you can."

"Reason and goals," He said quietly, miserably. Had he had a goal or a reason to live since the end of the war? “What… like what?”

"Unfortunately there is no easy answer to that. For each person it's different. Each one of us here used a different method to stop drinking at first," Aiden told him kindly. "One of our pamphlets focuses on methods to help stop drinking."

As he said that, a woman nearby stood, quickly retrieving said pamphlet – titled _Ways To Stop Drinking_. Corban scanned the bullet pointed list of methods, feeling like he wasn’t actually reading at all. The letters swam in front of him but he held it tightly.

"This is silly," a woman said, drawing his attention, making Corban look up at her. "Oh! My name is Lauren. But I... like I said this is silly. Every day I didn't drink I put a sticker on the calendar, I still do it. It makes me feel good to see a line of gold star stickers on the calendar each week.”

Corban's lips quirked up a bit and he felt an incredibly bittersweet surge of affection, remembering Alerina and her stickers for the days she'd gotten out of bed.

"I used to have a friend like that," he whispered, looking at the pamphlet, brushing the shiny paper. "She - well, she was also unfortunately involved in the cult but... we were thirteen and I remember that she used to put little stickers everywhere. She loved them. And she had a notebook full of stickers with glitter - used to tell me that doing it in nest order helped her organize her thoughts..."

Lauren gave him a tender smile and Corban bowed his head, trying not to cry.

"What if we don't... how do you figure out what method works for you?" One of the new people asked, a young man Corban remembered introduced himself as Alan.

"You try them," Chester said, chuckling. "Half of figuring out things is trying them, young lad!"

"Just... trial and error?"

"Trial and error," Eddie repeated quietly, to himself before he stood and walked towards the pamphlets. Corban stared at the steps in his own pamphlet and thought of actually... trying them. Trying to follow them.

The conversation moved on. More people shared their stories, good and bad. And Corban sat in his chair and didn’t speak a word, because he felt like all his energy had been sapped out of him. All he wanted to do was go home and take a long nap – or maybe go to Severus’ home and sleep for an entire week until the next meeting, when he actually had energy for it.

As the meeting came to a close, Corban suddenly realized that he’d been there for the entirety of it, and a surge of pride ran through him. He’d stayed – he’d _stayed_. He’d done it. Didn’t matter if his hands were shaking and he could barely look at anyone in the eye, he’d _done it_. He’d _made it_. The coin in his pocket sat heavier and he clenched it between his fingers, swallowing hard, approaching Aiden.

“I… I will see you next week,” Corban spoke up, making the man turn, eyes bright.

“Yes! Absolutely,” he nodded, happily shaking Corban’s hand and Corban was reminded that this man was a _muggle_. Corban was… in a muggle building, in a muggle meeting, he was getting to know other muggles.

Pippa would’ve been proud.

“Thank you,” Corban managed to croak out.

“Listen, anything you need, alright?” Aiden assured him quietly, hand clasping over Corban’s shoulder. “Your circumstances are strange, but your feelings are bound to be shared with someone else. Don’t ever be afraid to speak up, to talk to any of us.”

“I’ll try,” he breathed, nodding, having to look away as he walked out of the room.

There were a lot more people in the building now, he realized, and a lot of them were children. He’d heard the music before, knew that there were dance lessons and instrument lessons and something or other given here but he’d never actually seen the children before. He looked at them scurry outside, where parents awaited, and within himself, he felt something _want_. Corban let out a tight breath, swallowing hard, shaking his head. That was the past. He had to move on.

And he would’ve, if a small body hadn’t just _slammed_ into his leg, making him quickly turn to see a little girl about to fall to the floor. Reflexes kicking in from years of being around his friends’ children, Corban rushed to grab her little arm, keeping her up, wide honey eyes watching Corban.

“Hey, hey, hey!” he gasped, quickly helping her stand straight, crouching in front of her. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yes, mister!” she hiccupped. She had freckles _everywhere_ and her skin was a lovely shade of terracotta brown. Her eyes were _huge_ and her curls were pulled into a tight bun that barely held. Corban felt tenderness shake him as she clutched at her ladybug-shaped bag, right against her chest. “Thank you! I’m sorry!”

“It’s alright,” he said softly, kindly. “Just be more careful next time, yes?”

“Yes!” she nodded rapidly. She couldn’t have been more than five years old.

“What’s your name?” Corban asked.

“My mum says not to give my name or my time to strangers,” she recited and Corban gave a little laugh, nodding.

“Your mum is very smart,” he told her, standing, smiling at her. “I’ll leave you be, then, little one. Have a good day.”

“You too, mister!” she replied, giving him a toothy grin and _oh_ , she had her two front upper teeth missing. She was _adorable_. “Bye!”

She waved enthusiastically and rushed outside, making Corban watch her leave for a moment. He stayed inside the building for a moment, letting all these kids and parents pass before finally exiting the building. What a strange and delightful encounter.

“Ah, Corban! Over here!”

Corban looked over at the café, seeing Elías waving and he took a deep breath, walking over to their small table. A little chocolate cake sat there, untouched, waiting for him and he realized it was his favorite. He glanced at Severus, who watched him worriedly and Corban nearly burst into tears as he stood there in front of his friends, in this quaint little muggle town in the south of England.

Because despite all the awful things he’d been through, despite all the pain and hurt and heartbreak and mourning and misery, Corban felt astonishingly _lucky_ to not be alone.

He dropped on the chair, lower lip trembling and said absolutely nothing as he took the small fork and had a bit bite of his cake. Elías seemed about to say something but, instead, Severus shook his head at him. Corban hunched his shoulders, shielding himself from everyone else around them and Severus simply sipped his coffee and leaned closer to him, giving him what he needed in that moment – quiet sympathy and understanding.

With that, Corban ate his cake, Severus finished his coffee and Elías gently rubbed Corban’s back, wordless, just the way he wanted it to be.

* * *

Elías arrived home deep into the night, absolutely exhausted from the stupid defensive lesson Severus had imposed on him once they’d arrived back to his place. They’ve practiced in the garden and Elías’ arms _hurt_ and his lungs _burned_ and all he wanted to do was get home, call for a pizza and enjoy a movie with –

“¡ _Hola!_ ” his father greeted him in the kitchen, setting down a wonderful, _wonderful_ homemade burger on a plate. Harry sat at the table, all of it set already, with a place reserved just for him, right next to his mother. Elías felt his shoulders sink and he quickly moved to her, dropping his face on her shoulder.

“ _Nnngh_ ,” he whined, making ma roll her eyes fondly and pet his hair.

“Long day?” she asked in English.

“Thoroughly,” he mumbled, slipping into his seat, his father ruffling his hair. “Did you guys have fun? Did you have a good day, Harry?”

“Mhmm,” he replied, already in his pajamas, glasses slipping a little. He looked tired but _happy_. “We went to the bay and rented a boat. Juan taught me how to sail!”

“Did he?” he smiled, turning to his father, who was now cooking an extra burger, since Elías had arrived. “And did you like it?”

“It was a bit complicated at first, but it was _really_ nice,” Harry grinned. “He said you knew how to sail!”

“I used to, a lot, when I was uh… nine? Ten? Or so,” Elías told him. “I used to go to this sailing club. It had free lessons and we’d often go into the bay with these super nice sailing boats. I learned how to navigate like that. And I also gave lessons when I was thirteen and fourteen, during the summer. It was fun.”

“That’s cool,” Harry murmured.

“They still give those lessons,” ma pointed out, making Harry and Elías turn to her. “Maybe you’d like to join? It’s the middle of the season, but I’m sure you can catch up!”

Harry’s eyes went wide and he turned to Elías, “I… would that be alright? It’s – well, I’m sure it’s far away…”

“Are you kidding? It’s _barely_ an hour away, kiddo,” Elías laughed, pushing Harry’s glasses up fondly. “I’ll see about signing you up. The lessons are in Spanish, though, so I’ve to see if there are any English speakers there. You could do it every summer, if you’d like. It goes from mid-June to mid-August. And classes are… what? Two hours? So around four hours a week.”

“I’d like that, I’d – I’d really like that!” Harry nodded eagerly.

“Well, now he’s got a sport! Perfect!” Elías’ mother exclaimed, giving a happy little clap, her hand moving to pat Harry’s hand. “See? Now you won’t be so bored and stuck at home! You’ll need to wear a lot of sunscreen, though, because the sun hits hard! Have you got enough swimming trunks? Or any other equipment?”

“Ma, it’s late, we’re all tired,” Elías laughed, smiling at her, giving her temple a kiss.

“I’m just happy! He’ll love it, I know it,” she grinned and Harry gave a little sheepish smile.

“He’s a natural,” Juan pointed out, putting the burger in front of Elías and sitting down next to Harry, reaching for the mayonnaise. “Dig in!”

Dinner was a quiet, small affair and Elías was glad to have his parents here, filling the silence that he surely would’ve made from exhaustion and happily talking about what they’d done today with Harry. Harry seemed just as tired but he finished his burger and even leaned a bit into his father, making Juan mindlessly wrap an arm around his shoulders, rubbing Harry’s arm with a big hand.

“Go brush your teeth and you can go to bed, yeah?” Elías told him softly, Harry’s eyes fluttering open before he nodded, standing from the table, picking up his plate and glass and napkin and cleaning after himself.

When Harry left, his father turned to him and Elías caught his huge grin, making something swell in his chest.

“Thanks for taking care of him, guys,” he said in soft Spanish.

“He’s a good boy,” his mother spoke, brushing Elías’ hair out of his eyes. “And we’re very happy to have him around.”

“He’s kind, he listens and he is very respectful,” his father nodded, agreeing.

“All he needs is some love and patience,” Elías told them both, rubbing his face, actually so fucking relieved that the day had gone well, that Harry had been able to have fun, that he was finding his place at home. “I want him to get some friends here. To have both muggle and wizard friends.”

“That’s good. And he will, if he goes to those sailing lessons,” his mother assured.

“Yeah,” Elías rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. “I’m… I’m sorry about his godfather, is all.”

“That’s the… runaway, right?” his mother winced.

“No news so far. Though I don’t count on Dumbledore telling me, if he _was_ safe,” Elías sighed, rubbing his temple. “He never tells anyone anything and Sirius can’t send many letters, otherwise the British Ministry of Magic might catch him.”

“Just… keep the boy and yourself safe, okay?” his mother begged, her hand petting Elías’ hair. “I know you said he’s innocent but –”

“Ma, everyone was involved in the war, somehow. And I saw it in one of my, y’know,” Elías pointed at his head. “Sights. So uh… he’s pretty much innocent. He loves Harry. I _heard_ another man admit that he was the one who killed Harry’s parents.”

“That’s dreadful,” Lourdes breathed, horrified.

“Kid’s seen worse, I’m afraid. That's one of the reasons he's in therapy every Tuesday, working through it,” Elías whispered, rubbing his jaw, his father reaching over to grab his hand. “I dunno. I’ve to talk to Elena. And to other people, because stuff is happening in the background.”

“There isn’t going to be… another _war_ , right?” Lourdes asked, hand over her chest.

“Might be,” Elías muttered.

“If it happens,” Juan began firmly. “You and Harry’s safety is a priori –”

“Pa, they’re recruiting already,” Elías replied tiredly, making Lourdes’ eyes water. “Dumbledore’s already putting together the Order. He wants me to join this time.”

“But –”

“And I said yes.”

“But what about Harry?” Juan begged, trying to dissuade him.

“He’s part of this, too, I’m afraid. Prime target,” Elías swallowed. “Honestly, Dumbledore is protecting us, and that’s why we’re safe. But things could get worse. If so, I want all of you to _trust me_ when I leave for England. Alright?”

“You’re an adult and you make your own choices,” Lourdes pointed out. “But if my baby’s in danger, I’m _going in_.”

“Ma,” Elías said tiredly, hand moving to brush her hair back, kissing her forehead. “I’m not alone in this. It’s not even – a war, it’s just spy work for now. And not even. I’m merely talking about this so it doesn’t catch you both off-guard.”

“Couldn’t you just… stay here? In San Fernando?” Juan asked quietly.

“It’d spread. It has, before,” Elías told him, making a face. “I’ll keep you guys updated.”

“Please, do,” Juan stood, moving to hug him. “We love you –”

“We love you _very_ much,” Lourdes leaned over to hug him as well and Elías felt his shoulders sink with relief. Because as long as he had his parents’ advice beside him, he felt like he could do anything.


	11. Between Eleven and Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sad that this didn't line up with Chapter 12, I'll be honest. But hey!!! Progress in the main story!! Shit is happening for real, it's not just me being self-indulgent!
> 
> Songs for this Chapter:  
> \- Scarborough Fair/Canticle by Simon & Garfunkel (their version is delightful)  
> \- The Parting Glass by Hozier (His version is wildly superior!)  
> If anyone is wondering where I'm going with The Devil and the Witch, please be pointed at The Amazing Devil!
> 
> Trigger Warnings for this Chapter:  
> \- Discussion of Impostor's Syndrome  
> \- Discussion of Anxiety  
> \- Discussion of Bipolarity (overall mental health)  
> \- Discussion of trich (Trichotillomania)  
> \- Mention of death  
> \- Mention of homophobic slur  
> \- Discussion of medication/Poor practice of psychiatry

“Hey, Elías?”

Elías blinked, looking up from _The Forbidden Art of Time_ , realizing just how late it was. He set the book aside, a finger on the page he was on, rubbing his eyes and leaning back on the armchair.

“Harry,” Elías spoke up, blinking hard, giving the boy a smile. “Hey. Is everything okay? You still hungry?”

“Uh… no, I’m alright,” he rubbed his arm, in his pajamas consisting of some comfortable shirts and a simple white shirt. It’d been one of the first things Elías had gotten him, some actual summery pajamas. Something for him and only him.

It was Tuesday and today they’d gone to London for his therapy session. Harry had been quiet most of the day, even when Elías had brought Ron over. When Harry felt ready to talk about it, he would and Elías realized that this was it. He quickly dog-eared the page and put the book on the coffee table, watching Harry sit down on the couch, the only sound being the ocean outside and the crickets singing in the dry bushes.

Harry took some time, adjusting his glasses and rubbing his nose, looking around for a moment, his eyes landing on the book. He seemed to try and read it but the boy still didn’t have a single grasp of Spanish, which was a reprieve because Elías didn’t want him to know that he was delving into _Dark Magic_ of all things. That was a conversation for later.

“The uh…” he began slowly and Elías let his hair out, pulling it from the braid it’d been in, arms still aching from the dueling lesson from yesterday. He tried to create a comfortable and casual space for Harry, nodding to show him that he was listening. “I… talked about – Doctor Harris told me today that I may have anxiety.”

Elías nodded, listening, and Harry’s eyes briefly met his before looking down at his hands, which were picking at his bitten-off nails.

“I… I don’t know what… that means for me,” he said quietly.

“You don’t know what anxiety is?” Elías asked softly.

“I _know_ , I – Doctor Harris explained it but – but I – I didn’t get it,” Harry whispered.

Elías nodded slowly, rubbing his jaw, which was rough with overgrowing stubble, practically a beard already. He gave a little sigh and stood, stretching, making his back pop for a moment. Then he turned to Harry and gestured for him to get up.

“C’mon,” he encouraged softly. “Let’s go to the beach, hmm?”

“Right now?” Harry’s eyes widened.

“Yep,” Elías nodded, grabbing the keys and a lantern, gesturing at Harry to follow.

The two walked out of the house into the open air, some wind alleviating the oppressive heat of the night. Harry followed Elías across the road, down the steps to the boardwalk and finally to the sand, approaching the close shore. When Elías sat down on the sand, so did Harry, the two looking over the sea, hearing the _shaaa_ of the waves before they crashed into the sand.

For a moment, the two just stayed there, moon in the sky, so close to full. Elías always thought of Remus, now, whenever he saw it.

“What is it that you fear?” Elías finally spoke up, turning to Harry completely, facing him in the sand. Harry stared at the ocean.

“Dementors,” Harry whispered. “Fear itself. Remus said I was very wise.”

“It is,” Elías admitted, hand moving to pull gently on Harry’s sleeve. “What is the intangible thing that you fear, Harry?”

“What’s intangible?” the boy murmured, finally turning to him, green eyes watery.

“Untouchable. Non-physical,” Elías replied.

“Uh…” he sniffled, rubbing his nose, turning to Elías until the two were facing each other. “I… I guess I fear… small spaces.”

“Alright,” Elías nodded, voice gentle and encouraging. “What else?”

“Yelling,” he winced.

“And?”

“And… being lonely,” Harry breathed out, hands rubbing at his eyes under his glasses. “But a Dementor can’t turn into those things.”

“No, they can’t,” Elías admitted. “What do you think about, Harry, when it’s late and there’s nobody there? What – what thoughts come to your mind?”

“I –” the boy seemed a bit choked up, watching Elías’ knee. “I…”

“Take your time, there’s no rush,” Elías calmed him down, hand rubbing his arm.

Harry did take his time, breathing a bit hard, trying to calm down. He was shaking slightly and he kept scratching at his scar. Elías waited, watching the boy with careful, compassionate eyes and Harry finally took a deep, deep breath.

“I think people just want to be close to me because – because of this stupid thing,” Harry pointed at his forehead. “Nobody liked Harry Potter the weird muggle. Nobody liked Harry Potter in Privet Drive. Nobody enjoyed Harry Potter back at elementary school, in England. And then I – I go to Hogwarts and suddenly everyone wants to know me and be my friend and thinks I’m so cool and I’m – I’m _not_ , I’m just Harry!”

He rubbed his face, groaning, “I’m not strong, I’m not – Hermione’s _so_ much better than me at magic! I don’t know anything and – and – _and I_ – what will happen when people find out that I’m – that I’m fooling them all?!”

“Harry –”

“I’m not powerful! I’ve done nothing! The only reason why I’ve been able to – to do what I’ve done so far like with the basilisk and the philosopher’s stone is because of Ron and Hermione and so many others! I’m nothing without th –”

“ _Harry_ ,” Elías gently cut him off, hands moving to his face, lifting it a bit, thumbs brushing away his tears. “Harry, sweetheart, breathe?”

Harry did, sobbing out a bit, trying so hard to hold back and it broke Elías’ heart.

“Eight seconds in. Eight seconds hold. Eight seconds out,” he instructed. “Repeat.”

Slowly, Harry’s heartbeat slowed down and his scrunched up face changed, shoulders relaxing slightly, hands not so tight on his pajama pants. The sea always seemed to put Elías at ease and he thought that, in this case, it seemed to do the same for Harry. In a few minutes, the boy finally calmed down.

“Alright,” Elías said gently, grasping his shoulders. “There’s one thing I need you to know, Harry, alright? And I’m no therapist but this has worked wonders for me. It’s a piece of advice someone very, _very_ wise once said.”

“What is it?” Harry asked nasally.

“Your perception of yourself isn’t an isolated thought,” Elías explained to him. “What you think of yourself is, oftentimes, what you _think_ other people think of you. You look at yourself through a distorted lens that you believe is completely smooth. And that’s false. You do not _know_ what others think of you. You are not a mind reader, Harry. And even as a legillimens, it’s only a _passing thought_.”

Harry watched him, green eyes wide.

“Other people’s perception of you is none of your business,” Elías said firmly, squeezing his shoulders. “And it’s the hardest lesson to apply. People like you, in the public eye, will always be in the mouth of others. A martyr, a hero, this or that. But you can fall out of the public’s favor at any chance so you can suit their narrative. You are not a person to them, you’re a _concept_. But _you_ , Harry, in your circle of friends, in your family, in Hogwarts and at home?” he gently pressed a finger against Harry’s chest. “You’re a person.”

“I… don’t like being a concept,” Harry swallowed.

“I know,” Elías said sadly. “There’s nothing you can do about it, though. And it’s not _bad_ , yeah? That – that there’s nothing you can do. There are some things that we can change while others will be stagnant. We can’t choose our blood family, we can’t choose our circumstances, we can’t choose our past,” Elías told him kindly. “But we can change other things – work harder, learn from others, listen more and talk a little less. And it isn’t a perfect road, all of this. You’ll try and fall, but you can still move forward.”

“So… what _can_ I change, then? About… the things I fear?” Harry asked quietly.

“Well,” Elías gave a small smile, ruffling his hair. “You can work on reminding yourself that yes, _yes_ , Ron and Hermione have helped you. And you wouldn’t be where you are without them. But you deserve some credit as well. You three are a well-oiled machine and your friendship is healthy, loving and _good_. Don’t think about other people and what they think of you three, or just _you_. Think about how glad you are that Ron and Hermione are by your side. And if others can’t see it then, y’know,” Elías laughed. “ _Fuck them_!”

Harry’s eyes widened and he gave a snort, hand over his mouth, making Elías grin and nudge him, “Don’t say that out loud, though. Not until you’re sixteen. Otherwise others _will_ speak bad about me,” he snickered.

“I won’t. I won’t,” Harry promised, laughing quietly too, touching the sand below them softly. “I… keep thinking that bad things are going to come. And bad things are going to happen.”

“That’s anxiety, yes,” Elías told him, sighing. “Self-doubt, worry, fear… they all mingle. Intrusive thoughts may happen. Insomnia –”

“That’s – that’s not being able to sleep, right?” Harry interrupted, swallowing.

“Mhmm,” Elías nodded. “It’s the most common symptom in mine. I stay awake and build bad habits. At the very least, lately I’ve been trying to stay in bed and listen to some music. It helps, I think.”

“You’ve anxiety, too…” Harry murmured.

“And bipolar disorder, yes,” Elías nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Diagnosed anxiety and depression since I was… around your age? A year older, I think? Something like that.”

“And – and how do you live with it?” Harry asked, frowning.

“I’ve a good support system,” Elías admitted, leaning back, hands digging into the sand, getting under his nails, relaxing him as he sighed. “I listen to my therapist and I’m honest with him. I listen to others when they tell me I’m spiraling, or try to listen to them,” he chuckled. “I explain my situation to my close friends and tell them when I’m feeling bad. I let other people help. Again, er – try to. I’m still working on that.”

“Okay,” Harry muttered, rubbing his hands, sighing. “Alright.”

The two stayed in silence for a moment and Elías looked at the waves, slowly getting closer, high tide approaching.

“For the record,” Elías spoke up, making Harry glance at him. “I know that you’re not perfect, Harry. I know that you can make mistakes. I know that you _will_ make mistakes. And disobey. And rebel and yell and get angry and get sad. I know you will, because you’re _human_ ,” he let his blues meet Harry’s wide greens. “But I will not hate you for it. We will work through things. I will listen to you and I only expect you to listen to me, as well. But Harry, I will _not_ hate you for being any less than what _I think you are_.”

Harry’s eyes filled once more with tears and he quickly looked away, rubbing hard at them, making Elías sigh softly before sitting up, pulling Harry to his chest, hugging him tightly. Harry gripped at his shirt, nose burrowed into Elías’ collarbones and Elías rubbed his back slowly the same way his own father did. It had always soothed him.

“You’re alright, kid,” Elías sighed against his unruly curls, feeling such tenderness for Harry, the need to protect him. “I got you out of that house and I’m not going to just let you sink now, yeah? We’re a team, you and I. I’ll make mistakes and so will you. We’re human. That’s what we do. So let’s be kind to ourselves.”

“A-alright,” Harry choked, nodding, his glasses digging into Elías’ skin but he didn’t bother telling him. Harry needed the tightness in that moment. “Thank y-you.”

“You’re gonna be fine, kid. You’ll be alright,” Elías promised, kissing the top of his head and Harry, small little thirteen year old boy, relaxed into his embrace and let out a deep sigh, shoulders sinking.

When they got back to the house, half an hour later, Elías moved him to the kitchen and made him some chocolate milk – cold, since it was summer – and Harry spoke about being afraid that the others in his House would turn against him the moment Harry lost of Quidditch game or the moment Harry got too frustrated with Hermione or Ron. He had two full mugs of chocolate milk and talked and talked and talked and Elías listened to him for over two hours in the kitchen, letting him go.

Harry was petty and sometimes outright mean towards others who had hurt him in the past, towards Severus and the Dursley’s and Draco. He was frustrated and he was young and he was allowed to express all of this, which was what he did – he laid it all on the counter of Elías’ little kitchen, finished his third mug and put it down with a sigh.

Elías watched him, amused, as Harry seemed to realize how much he’d talked.

“Better?” Elías asked, chuckling.

“Actually… yes,” Harry blinked, startled.

“Tired?” Elías cocked an eyebrow.

“Very,” Harry nodded, shoulders dropping.

“Off the bed, then,” Elías stood, smiling, throwing an arm over Harry’s shoulders, walking him to his room after cleaning the mugs they’d used with a swipe of his wand. “I hope you are able to sleep now.”

“I feel so much lighter,” Harry murmured, eyes wide, watching his hands.

“Good,” Elías grinned. “So do I.”

“Y-you do?” Harry looked up at him.

“Mhmm. Knowing that you’ve talked to me and trusted me with this? Makes me rest much easier,” Elías confirmed, smiling at the boy. “I won’t tell anyone about what we’ve talked tonight. And you can come to me whenever you find yourself frustrated with something, yeah?”

“I will,” Harry promised, giving Elías the first smile of the night, making Elías’ chest feel a bit lighter as well.

Elías guided him to his room, tucked him in and Harry seemed to watch him with sparkling eyes as he did. Elías loved it – loved it when his father or mother would do it, even in his twenties. Everyone deserved to be treated kindly, to be treated with love. And so did Harry, no matter his age.

“There you go, nice and cozy,” Elías smiled, brushing his hair out of his eyes and gently folding his glasses, since he always kept them unfolded, setting them away from the edge of his nightstand where they could be dropped. “Try and get some shut-eye, alright?”

“Alright,” Harry whispered and Elías moved towards the door when Harry called his name, “E-Elías?”

The Spaniard paused, turning to look at Harry, barely visible in the darkness of the room but he waited, the pregnant pause giving him patience.

“…thank you,” Harry finally said, in lieu of probably a lot of things he wanted to say.

“It’s no trouble at all, kid,” Elías replied, smiling his way. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” Harry muttered.

* * *

“What about Anne?”

“Anne Sherman? No, no! She’d be so expensive!”

“Well, there’s no _other_ folk singer around,” Elías sighed deeply, hand rubbing his face, looking at the notes he and Fillius had compiled over the last month and a half. Singers, musicians, dancers, but no matter what they had, no matter who they asked, it wouldn’t represent anything that the British Ministry of Magic had told them to represent.

“Have you found any songs?” Fillius asked with a groan, rubbing his forehead.

“A few,” Elías winced, dropping on the couch of the Staff Room.

It was so strange, to be at Hogwarts during the summer – the sky was mostly clear, the weather was strangely nice and the halls were _absolutely empty_. And so was Elías’ tower – the _Astronomy Tower_. It was strange, to be there without all his things. Strange to enter Dumbledore’s Office and not find the man there. Just weird, overall.

“Lay them on me!” Fillius encouraged and Elías nodded, sighing, taking one of his notes.

“Well, there’s the obvious – _The Lass of Richmond Hill, The Willow Tree, Over the Hills and Far Away, Blow the Man Down, The Parting Glass, Scarborough Fair…_ ”

“Those are mostly muggle,” Fillius pointed out and Elías frowned.

“Are they?” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Shit. Are they? I… I don’t know many Wizarding Folk Songs, I’ll admit.”

“Have you heard of The Devil and the Witch?” Fillius asked, walking over to Elías, checking his notes and Elías paused.

“No?” he smiled slowly. “No, I have _not_.”

“Back in medieval England, muggles were starting to give way to religion over magic, many often said that it was tied to the Devil and womanhood,” Fillius explained, something Elías had heard multiple times in his History of Magic classes. “A pair of unlikely bards appeared in that moment – a woman known as simply the Witch and a man who called himself the Devil. Supposedly, the folklore around them is that he was indeed the Devil of muggles’ religion of Christianity, and he’d given her the ability to sing and hold impeccable high notes.”

“That is _fascinating_ ,” Elías breathed, watching Flitwick with wide blues.

“Of course, all of that was nonsense,” Fillius chuckled. “They were two young apprentices of an old wizard named Hoyden Perevell, known for… quite insidious magic. The two broke away from him and pursued a life of freedom within music, passing down very important stories through songs.”

“I should get a hold of one of their songs, then,” Elías said, surprised.

“Yes, well – their songs are quite long and sometimes can be boring to a fickle audience, I’m afraid,” Fillius told him, making Elías pout. “And also, they hold ancient magic.”

“O-oh?” Elías stuttered, feeling his heart skip a bit, excited. “Do they?”

“It’s… unsure of what they do, exactly,” Fillius warned him. “But two people who possess magic should be careful when performing their songs. It’s been told that it’s either ancient magick or perhaps even curses.”

“Fascinating,” Elías whispered, quickly writing it all down on a spare piece of parchment. “Truly, I’d never heard of something like this.”

“Perhaps if you’d paid attention to the little lessons during choir, you would!” Fillius scolded, making Elías laugh and the Ravenclaw rolled his eyes. “But – but you know, I think perhaps _The Parting Glass_ may be a good choice.”

“Better than a shanty,” Elías mumbled, rolling his eyes. “I bet the Danish have chosen a shanty for sure.”

“For sure,” Fillius sighed. “The only problem would be how to make it special. We can’t just… slap a singer and expect them to enchant everyone.”

“It’d be good to hire someone Scottish, then,” Elías told him. “It _is_ a Scottish song, after all.”

“Bet the British Ministry would love that,” Fillius snorted and Elías winced, grabbing the parchment with all the requirements that they’d been asked for. _Bravery, honesty, loyalty_ … Elías could put forth Monty Python’s _Holy Grail_ and they’d be set. This was absolute _clownery_. None of that described Hogwarts. None of it spoke of the four houses, the founders, what Hogwarts wanted to achieve and the variety of students there.

If anything, _The Parting Glass_ was appropriate because it was often the song of choice for Hogwarts graduations. People would sing it and cry with it and hug their friends and promise to someday see them again. Elías had heard it in his own graduation and he’d felt nothing, but other people would hear it and often think of these halls.

“ _The Parting Glass_ is good,” Elías nodded, rubbing his forehead. “We’ll find someone Scottish or Irish to perform it. Or an ensemble – four people? Four people!” Elías gasped. “Two men and two women. Dressed as the four colors?” he suggested.

“Excellent idea, indeed,” Fillius nodded, scribbling it down with his rapidfire quill. “Have you got any suggestions? Do you know of any folklore ensembles that might –”

“I’d have to look,” Elías bit his thumbnail, worrying it. “I think I might ask Narcissa Malfoy – she’s always doing Charity Balls and the like, she surely knows her musicians,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “The only thing I’m worried about is that we’re able to pull a – a real performance. It’s one thing to have talented musicians on stage, it’s another thing to _make a performance_.”

“I agree,” Fillius sighed, leaning against the coffee table, looking over some music sheets he’d brought. Elías found an old, yellowed copy of _Scarborough Fair_ , because of course he’d brought it. He sighed, leaning back on the couch, reading over it.

“Do you remember when I joined the choir?” Elías asked him quietly.

“Mhmm. I enjoyed your mezzo-soprano quite a lot,” he smiled at Elías, who smiled back softly, feeling somewhat bittersweet. “Never knew why you quit. You’ve a wonderful voice.”

“Thank you, Fillius,” Elías sighed, resting his cheek against his fist. “I miss it, sometimes. But I honestly think I invested way too much time in music. It was but a silly dream, you know?”

“What are you talking about?” Fillius squawked, turning to the Slytherin. “You had all the signs of a great musician, Elías!”

“Yeah, well, I kind of lost my passion, I guess,” Elías murmured, watching the notes, chewing on his lower lip.

“I still see a lot of passion in you,” Fillius offered, watching him with sympathy.

“I don’t know about that,” Elías laughed, shaking his head.

“I _do_ ,” Fillius insisted, slapping Elías’ knee, making him look up at the man. “I see you with the children. And they love you and you love them. I’ve passed by the Astronomy Tower and heard you sing. And I’ve heard that you’ve been teaching Theodore Nott drums. I didn’t know you played drums.”

“A friend taught me in college,” Elías whispered.

“What if _you_ sang for the performance?” Fillius suggested and Elías’ eyes went wide.

“Oh, no, no, no, _no!_ ” he immediately said, hands in front of himself. “Absolutely not! No, no, _no_ , I – I’m Spanish, first of all!” he burst out.

“Slytherin was Spanish,” Fillius pointed out and Elías felt panic wash over him, shaking his head firmly.

“No, _no_ , I am not – I am _absolutely_ not what we’re looking for, Fillius, no!” he said firmly, standing. “We’ll find an ensemble, we’ll get them to work with us within our budget and we’ll figure out a performance. I’ll tell you when I find one.”

He practically fled out of the room, leaving nothing else to be said and it wasn’t until he was almost at Dumbledore’s office that he realized he was still clutching the music sheet for _Scarborough Fair_ in his hand. Elías wanted nothing less than go back to face Flitwick and his _frankly ridiculous_ ideas and propositions so he decided to keep it for now and hand it back the next time they saw each other.

The office still lacked Dumbledore when Elías entered but not Fawkes, the vibrant magical bird perched on his golden throne. The Spaniard paused, startled, seeing him at the height of his most recent birth and the way the sun shone over his beautiful feathers made him exhale rapidly.

“Wow,” he mumbled, speaking in soft Spanish. “You are _stunning_ , aren’t you, boy?” he approached slowly, the phoenix giving him a cautious look.

Elías very, very slowly moved his hand and, thankfully, Fawkes did not bite his finger off, allowing the Slytherin to gently scratch at his buttery feathers, letting out a small chirp of acceptance. Elías wished he could hear him cry out, loud and clear – he’d been told it was something to behold and Fawkes was getting _big_. He’d once seen the bird at the top of his growth and he was easily the size of Harry himself.

“Thank you, buddy,” Elías smiled at him, brushing his golden beak before finally turning to the chimney, a bit more calm, stepping back into El Rompido.

Breaking off the connection with Hogwarts with a quick swipe of his wand, Elías looked onto the living room, then the garden. None of the Golden Trio was there and he guessed they were at the beach, enjoying the sunny day – _hopefully_ with some sunscreen. Especially poor Ron, who was as white as Elías himself.

He set down the music sheets on the table and sighed, rubbing his face, thankful that he could relax a bit after such a strenuous meeting. It was late July already, only a week and a half left for the month to end and he and Fillius had had no luck whatsoever in this. It didn’t help that it was just two of them and no matter how much they asked the British Ministry of Magic about it, they’d get no additional help. And no payment whatsoever, either. They’d been lumped with this. And all Elías could hope for was that they wouldn’t be the worst performance of the week – _at least_.

He sighed, watching the music sheet, eyes a bit soft and with a sigh, Elías moved towards the couch, sitting on it, grabbing his guitar on the way. He sat heavily on the couch, one foot on the edge of the coffee table for comfort and pretty soon, after glancing at the music sheet, he began to play – and this song was familiar to him, was one of his favorites from Simon & Garfunkel, after all. He had parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme tattooed on his right leg.

“ _Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme. Remember me to one who lives there. She once was a true love of mine..._ ”

Fillius was wrong. It didn’t matter that Slytherin had been Spanish, Elías wasn’t – he wasn’t _part of Hogwarts_. He’d never experienced what everyone else had in the castle, he’d always been an outcast compared to everyone else. Elías didn’t represent any of the students there and, as much as he loved the castle now as an adult and adored the children there, he was realistic – he _knew_ he didn’t belong. He knew that the only reason he was there was to be protected and used by Dumbledore when the time came.

And besides, Elías did _not_ belong on stage. He’d been in it, he’d loved it, he’d _adored_ it to the point of letting him be swept away by all the things that made him… horrible. Incited narcissism, made him ruder and louder and meaner and angrier. He’d been so angry, he’d been so ready to dismiss anything anyone told him, believing it an attack at every turn. Music was good and kind but the stage… the stage was a spotlight that Elías desired maybe too much. Just _too much_.

He didn’t finish the song, stopping as he finished the second stance and with a sigh, he put his guitar away and rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling the pity party that was probably incoming soon. Instead of indulging in it, Elías walked to the kitchen and busied himself with making lunch, focused on how happy the kids would be to have a nice little barbeque ready for when they came back from the beach.

Or, well, he would’ve been focused and distracted if his chimney hadn’t lit up and Remus – along with fucking _Dumbledore_ of all people stepped in, making Elías nearly drop his knife to his fucking foot. Shit.

“W-what is going on?” Elías immediately asked, stunned, stopping the music and turning to them, wary of Dumbledore in his home. He’d only been here two times – when his Hogwarts letter had arrived and earlier this summer, before school was over, placing all the necessary wards around this place.

“Good morning, Elías,” Dumbledore said amiably.

“Sorry,” Remus replied quietly, watching Elías and the knife in his hand then glancing at Dumbledore. “Er… we’ve news, actually. And – well, we were at my place and –”

“It’s fine, I’m not going to stab you guys,” Elías rolled his eyes, putting the knife down and Dumbledore seemed amused while Remus simply sighed deeply, nodding. “What’s going on?”

“I have received a letter from young Mr Black,” Dumbledore spoke up, taking a slow seat on one of Elías’ colorful, absurdly Spanish rustic chairs, looking like a goldfish on a bicycle. Elías stared. “Sirius Black.”

“Oh!” Elías blinked rapidly. “Sorry, you said young Black and my mind went to Draco –”

“Draco is a Malfoy,” Dumbledore pointed out, looking at him from over his half-moon glasses and Elías wanted to fight him on it, if only to piss the old man off but he restrained, understanding that they’d come here to explain things. For fucking once. “Sirius sent me a letter revealing that the Black House in Grimmauld Place has been abandoned for quite some time. He has been able to acquire a key and has sent it to us to use for meetings for the Order of the Phoenix.”

“Oh,” Elías murmured, chest tightening. “Grimmauld Place…?”

He glanced at Remus, who winced and looked away. So – not a happy place. That much had been evident before and by the look on Remus’ face, it wouldn’t be a kind place to any of them now. But if they wanted to go under the radar…

“Walburga Black is dead, isn’t she?” Elías asked quietly.

“She passed away five years ago,” Dumbledore nodded.

“Is it safe?” Elías questioned, arms crossed. “If it’s the Honorable House of Black, I’m _sure_ it has a shit ton of cursed items and the like. We’ll need to get rid of a lot of dangerous shit before we’re able to use it for meetings.”

“That is where I was hoping you and Severus would step in,” Dumbledore nodded and Elías was already dreading it. “You two know quite a lot about Dark Magic.”

“Me?” Elías pointed at himself, incredulous.

“You broke the connection of a wildly unknown blood curse, Elías,” Dumbledore pointed out and Elías tensed a bit, remembering bloody, wounded Severus, looking away uncomfortably. “And Severus’ hobbies… well. We all know.”

“He’s a curious man,” Remus offered gently.

“We know our Dark Magic shit, alright, I’ll give you that,” Elías admitted, unimpressed. “But why not hire – _oh_ ,” he slapped a hand over his face. “Right. Whole… secret society and all that bullshit. Alright, I’m stupid – did Severus say yes?”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore nodded, looking absolutely amused by him. Elías disliked it. “He has agreed to come tomorrow morning and have a first look at the house. Should you agree, I believe you two could go."

“And Sirius agreed to let Severus go there?” Elías asked dryly. Remus seemed fascinated by the chimney and Elías already knew the answer as Dumbledore cleared his throat.

“He’s offered the house for the whole Order of the Phoenix. Severus is part of it,” he reasoned.

“When Sirius gets back and he sees Severus in his old house, he’ll throw a fit. Be warned,” Elías snorted, turning around to continue preparing everything for the little barbeque. “At what time tomorrow?”

He hoped it’d only take the morning – they had Pansy’s recital in the evening.

“Eight in Islington Green,” Dumbledore stood and Remus stepped aside to let him through. “Remus, would you mind if I used your chimney to get back to Hogwarts?”

“Not at all, Headmaster,” Remus replied politely and with that, the elder wizard was gone in a burst of flames, leaving the Gryffindor and Slytherin alone in the house. “I… sorry, he ambushed me –”

“It’s fine,” Elías waved a hand, sighing. “Fucking – Grimmauld Place, huh?”

“I was just as surprised as you,” Remus murmured, walking over to him and glancing at the food around Elías. “What are you making?”

“Preparing the meat for the barbeque, Ron and Hermione are here, too,” Elías explained, waving towards the beach. “I mean, Sirius has told me multiple times that _that house_ is a _fucking nightmare_.”

“I’m sure it’s also a nightmare to be constantly on the run,” Remus pointed out quietly and Elías swallowed, hands pausing on a bottle of spices, standing still. “Have you received any letter from him?”

“Yes. Both Harry and I,” Elías whispered, not daring to turn around.

“I’d guessed,” Remus hummed. “So have I.”

Elías felt relief wash over him, a worry he hadn’t known he’d kept inside just lifting away and flying out the window. He let out a quiet breath, knees nearly giving away and he turned to Remus with a smile.

“I’m glad, Remus,” he murmured.

“I feel like it’s… bad for him to be constantly moving,” Remus murmured, hand over his mouth, sitting down on a stool. “He must be exhausted – walking from one place to the other, no home, no bed, I – nothing has _changed_ from last summer and I only wish –”

“It doesn’t matter what we wish, though, things are as they are,” Elías swallowed hard. “I let Pettigrew get away –”

“Stop _saying_ that,” Remus interrupted, frustrated and Elías sighed. “You didn’t _let_ him go, Carrow nearly killed you and you and Will had to quickly leave before anything bad happened. You’ve got to stop blaming yourself.”

“Right,” Elías grunted, turning to Remus, watching him for a moment before he sighed deeply and dropped his head on his shoulder, whining. “I hate it. I _hate it_. And I hate that I miss Sirius, that _dickhead_.”

“He’s a twat alright,” Remus chuckled. “But he’s a good man.”

“Not even – maybe. Ugh. I don’t know. I just want him to be safe, alright? Unfortunately, I care about him, as well as just – you lot in the Order,” Elías rolled his eyes, turning back to the sink. “Are you staying for lunch?”

“If you’d have me,” Remus replied, smiling.

“Grab me some pepper, paprika and onion powder, let’s take this to the garden.”

* * *

London at eight in the morning was everything Elías disliked about cities.

He took a sip of his horribly expensive extra-large, triple shot iced coffee and waited for Severus, leaning back against a post, wearing muggle jeans and a loose, sleeveless shirt along with his usual jewelry. And in the middle of minding his business, a couple of teenagers walked by and called him a slur, making him internally feel an absurd amount of gender euphoria. _Fag_ was a completely masculine one and it was _so_ stupid, but he’d been called anything _but_ fag. What an honor, to completely pass to strangers on the street.

“I see you’re here on time,” a familiar voice spoke and Elías glanced to the side, seeing Severus in _muggle attire_ , like back in Cartagena. It made Elías’ lips quirk up and he turned to the potioneer, grinning, arms crossed.

“He- _llo_ , Mr Snape,” Elías laughed, approaching the man. “Aren’t you overheating in long sleeves?”

“No,” Severus replied dryly, watching him. “Aren’t you cold in that awful, awful thing that you would dare to call a shirt?”

“It’s the queer fashion, Sev,” Elías threw back, snickering and Severus rolled his eyes. “Alright, so – where’s Grimmauld Place?”

“12 Grimmauld Place. Let’s go,” the man nodded, completely serious before starting to walk up the street, Elías following after him, frowning at Severus.

“Is everything okay?” he asked softly and Severus did not glance at him.

“No,” he replied, grunting. “Lucius and Narcissa took your advice.”

Elías blinked, “…about?”

“Therapy. For Draco,” he explained, jaw tight and Elías frowned.

“And? What happened?” Elías pressed.

“The boy has been diagnosed with severe social anxiety, that’s what,” Severus hissed and Elías felt sympathy shake him. But of _course_. He’d been an idiot not to see it – the overcompensation, the way Draco hid away in the back of the class, the way he wanted the spotlight but not the spotlight itself, he wanted to _want it_. Oh, and he’d been pushing for Quidditch, Gods… everyone watching him, judging him. “Oh, that explains the trichotillomania…”

Severus glanced at him, eyes stormy, “Hair pulling.”

“Happens with OCD but also acute anxiety,” Elías sighed, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “Oh, that poor boy…”

“He was four hours in a psychologist’s office and when he came out they had a neat diagnosis and a swath of _pills_ for him to take,” Severus growled and Elías gave a deep frown.

“Diagnosis so hastily given should be… a warning sign,” Elías told him.

“You _think_?” Severus looked on edge.

“Let him go to another therapist. Another psychiatrist,” Elías said softly, reaching out to grab Severus’ hand, the man twitching like a scared beast but Elías slowly entwined their fingers, forcing him to relax a little, stop stabbing himself with his own nails. “Yeah? Why don’t I recommend some nice ones? Harry has been going with Doctor Harris and he’s been _wonderful._ Doesn’t pressure him, doesn’t force a diagnosis until the kid is ready…”

“Is he muggle?” Severus asked and Elías gave him a hard stare. “I am asking for _them_ , not for _me_. I want the best for Draco but Lucius is still wary of muggles. And he’s been pulling at his _own_ hair to try and see what Draco is going through.”

“He’s a wizard,” Elías sighed.

“Alright,” Severus nodded, hand tight on Elías’, almost shaking. “I can convince Lucius, then.”

“They’re proper scared, aren’t they?” Elías whispered and Severus nodded, a jerky motion until Elías brushed the back of his hand with his thumb. “And so are you?”

“I don’t want him bathed in – medication. Medication is part of it, I know it can help, I know it would’ve helped my mother,” Severus muttered, eyes straight ahead. “But it is _not_ a simple solution. That boy – my godson has to work with a specialist. He used to not be as nervous, he used to…” he swallowed. “That all changed. And now he’s…”

“Mental health can change with age. One day you’re fine and the next… not,” Elías told him softly, squeezing his hand, watching Severus’ profile. “I know it can be confusing, especially for someone who hasn’t gone through trauma –”

“But what if he _has_?” Severus hissed and Elías paused, feeling a spike of worry. “What if something _has_ happened?”

“Then he goes to therapy and works it out with a professional,” Elías whispered. “And I’m sorry that the answer isn’t simpler. Sometimes… it just is what it is.”

“I wish he’d speak with you,” Severus muttered, making Elías blink.

“Me?” he asked, confused.

“Yes. _You_. It’d help him endlessly,” Severus scowled. “But he refuses.”

“Maybe I haven’t created the most welcoming environment for him…” Elías worried, chewing on their bottom lip, finishing his coffee and dropping the cup on a trashcan. “Fuck. I – I really should work on that. I think I’m not that close to Draco as I am to all the other Slytherin kids in Third – Fourth Year.”

“Perhaps,” Severus said quietly.

“It’ll be alright, yes?” Elías assured him, pulling a bit on his arm as they entered an empty, gloomy street. “He has loving parents, loving friends. His godfather cares so much about him and his friends will always have his back. All he needs to do is _learn_ about how to express his feelings, which… I’m mostly guessing that being a _boy_ is what’s doing it.”

Severus snorted, “I’m _quite_ sure that you’re right.”

“Hm,” Elías frowned a bit and Severus let go of his hand to grasp his wand, making Elías pause. “Wait, we’re here?”

“This is Grimmauld Place,” Severus replied, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Step back, please.”

“I… don’t see a 12,” Elías frowned, looking at the number 11 and number 13. “Wait, is this like… Platform 9¾?”

“More or less,” Severus sighed before raising his hands and performing a silent spell, the two houses starting to shake and Elías quickly gripped Severus’ right arm to stay uptight, surprised, seeing a house slowly appear from between them as they were pulled away. “Orion Black and Walburga Black were paranoid.”

“No _shit_ ,” Elías gaped.

“This is why Grimmauld Place is _safe_ ,” Severus told him. “Only I have been here. And Narcissa. Not even her sisters have stepped foot inside this house. It is unplottable – will not be spotted by muggles nor wizards, unless it is revealed to them. And we hold the only key that may open the front door, as well,” he lifted his hand and Elías looked down to see a… key. A key in obsidian.

Elías looked at it, fascinated, grasping the heavy metal, looking at the intricate stars embedded in it. The details were exquisite and, suddenly, he realized the constellation depicted in it – Leo and Orion. Regulus and Sirius. This house had been built with those two in mind and it made something hurt in Elías’ chest, glancing at Severus.

“Are you alright?” he asked, once the shaking was gone and the house was finally fully out in the open. The neighbors didn’t seem to have noticed anything at all.

“More or less,” Severus cleared his throat, looking over the place.

“When was the last time you were here?” Elías asked.

“1979,” Severus easily replied, taking a deep breath. “I was the one who told Walburga of Regulus’ death.”

Elías swallowed, hand gripping his arm tighter, “I’m s –”

“Let’s go,” Severus shook him off, walking forward and Elías followed, sighing, climbing up the front steps and looking at the dark windows. There were heavy curtains obscuring everything and Elías didn’t see any of the grandiose architecture of other pureblood homes. Maybe the Blacks were a bit more humble? Elías doubted it.

“The doors are heavy and will surely be rusty,” Severus warned, taking the key from Elías, slipping it into the keyhole and twisting to the left, not the right. A huge clacking sound was heard. “So I will need your help pushing them.”

“Them?” Elías blinked, looking at the front door. “There’s only one.”

“It’s bigger on the inside,” Severus simply said and Elías nodded. Of course it was. “Ready?”

“Yes,” he nodded, putting his hands against the door.

“One, two –”

The two pushed hard and Elías’ shoes slipped on the stone a bit before he put his shoulder onto it and the door finally screeched open, the professors almost falling inside. A wave of dust hit them and Elías sneezed hard, hands in front of his mouth, Severus quickly shutting the door – _doors_? There were… two.

There were two doors and the house wasn’t a house, it was a _mansion_.

A _gain_.

Elías tired of eternally big houses but the House of Black…

“It’s Victorian,” Elías whispered, surprised, blinking hard as the door shut and everything was encased in darkness, making him flinch. “It’s… a Victorian _house_.”

“They’re British,” Severus shrugged, wand lifting to perform a powerful lumos, which he shook to carry over dusty and cobweb-filled chandeliers. It was strange – there was a long hallway to the right and on their left there were some grandiose stairs leading up and Elías moved forward, looking up the spiral, finding more stories than he could count. To the left, an archway opened into a drawing room, a bit smaller than Corban’s or Narcissa’s, granted, but still _huge_ with some hideously outdated furniture. Right in front of Elías and Severus there was an intricate archway to a _kitchen_ , of all things and Elías couldn’t fathom _why_.

And there. Over the kitchen archway, in golden details under a black crest with the profile of a crow in it, Elías saw it;

_TOUJOURS PUR._

“Did they build this house?” Elías asked Severus, already knowing the answer.

“Yes,” the potioneer replied, stepping forward, about to walk towards the drawing room when Elías suddenly saw his silhouette… _blur_. Shoulders less broad, less in height, much lankier and with his hair shorter as well and Elías felt his head swim.

“S-Sev,” he tried to warn, hand slapping over the newel of the staircase. Ozone filled his senses of smell and taste and black spots danced before his eyes as Severus turned – younger, angrier, sadder, perhaps. “I…”

“Fuck,” was the last thing Elías heard before his eyes went white.


	12. The Ancient and Noble House of Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh... long time no see, huh?
> 
> I'm so, so, SO sorry, guys. I didn't meant to go like, three weeks without updating at all, I just got caught up in mental illness. I've been quite depressed these last weeks and I've been struggling with a lot of things. Dysphoria and seasonal depression and bipolarity and - you name it. It's been tought but I think I'm ready to come back with a bang. This chapter is a bit hard to read, so be careful, alright?
> 
> Trigger Warnings for this Chapter:  
> \- British Imperialism (Imperialism in general)  
> \- Racism  
> \- Cultural Genocide  
> \- Child abuse  
> \- Systemic racism/Systemic abuse  
> \- Cult tactics  
> \- Nazi mention  
> \- Mention of eugenics  
> \- Discussion of death/murder  
> \- Dicsussion of mourning

In another time, the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black had looked very different.

The polished dark wood shone, the clean stained glass reflecting kaleidoscope-like colors upon it, upon the perfectly set of not-crooked stairs with delightful floating candles to illuminate this home. And in the middle of this aristocratic beauty, like a dark stain upon the rug, like a splash of black ink over pristine, unused parchment, stood Severus Snape, carrying a small green velvet-wrapped box in his hands.

And in the background, a constant wail of despair.

A cry of pain ran through the house, ringing and shrill, uncaring for volume or decor, contrasting against the elegance of the House of Black. Severus stood there, frozen, or perhaps simply hesitant as he looked up the stairs before sighing, glancing towards the drawing room, where such high suffering was coming from.

For a moment, he simply watched the shadow that laid in black upon the couch cry and sob, tiny pale hands gripping her wild hair, uncontrolled magic making the room nearly vibrate as Severus finally stepped closer.

“Walburga?” he spoke up gently, in a tone never heard before from him at such age.

And looking up, hatred in her wild brown eyes, was an elderly and furious Walburga Black. She watched him for a moment, eyes puffy and rimmed with red, sparks of red frizzing from her hair. There was grey in it but only wisps, now flying astray from what once had been surely a beautifully tight and well-kept bun.

“ _You_ ,” she snarled, shakily standing, hands like claws gripping the lamp next to her to help her stand. “You little _half-blood degenerate_.”

Severus simply stood there, taking it, not replying in all his twenty-year old wisdom in the face of a mourning mother. Walburga did not care for any of it, though, tears streaming down her face as she pointed at him, hand trembling.

“You took my _boy_!” she sobbed, accent thick, probably thicker than it had been in a long, long time. “You took my _baby_! My baby, _my baby!_ ” she cried, covering her face, nearly falling to the floor but Severus rushed to wrap an arm around her waist, helping her sit down on the couch again. “My Reggie! My Regulus! My baby, please, come back!”

“I am so sorry,” Severus whispered, voice breaking, knuckles white where his spare hand gripped that velveted box. “I’m so sorry, Walburga. I’m sorry.”

“Damn you all!” she cried, clutching at the Severus’ shoulder, pressing her nails in, like talons ripping through meat. “Damn you! Damn all of you, one day you shall lose the one that you love the most and you’ll realize my pain!”

“I already did,” Severus rasped, eyes closing and Walburga just cried louder, now into Severus’ shoulder.

“My sweet little boy, _my b-baby!”_ she wailed, like a ghost through a castle, whimpering through sobs. “Why did they take away my baby?! Why him?! _Why him?!_ Anyone but him, oh, Merlin, _Merlin_!” she cried.

“I’m sorry,” Severus repeated, his own shoulders shaking. “I came – I came here –”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Walbburga shoved him away and Severus nearly fell on his ass on the carpet, eyes widening, managing to stand up. “I don’t want to hear it, he’s not dead! He’s not dead, my baby isn’t dead! He can’t be dead!”

“Walburga, he’s gone,” Severus whispered, looking on the verge of crying himself.

“No!” she pressed her hands to her ears. “No! _Anh_ _ấ_ _y là con trai c_ _ủ_ _a tôi_!”

Severus jerked, looking nauseous, hand running over his mouth. “Walburga, I’m so sorry, but… you need to face it. And you need to leave this house before it consumes you, too. I came here because Regulus wouldn’t have wanted –”

“Keep his _name out of your mouth!_ ” she snarled, struggling to pull out her wand and Severus swiftly pulled his out in a defensive stance, looking almost pained. “None of you deserved him! None of you deserved to know him, to take him away _from me_! Oh…” she sobbed, looking at her own hands before her wand dropped to the floor. “Oh, _Regulus_. My baby! _Đ_ _ứ_ _a bé!_ My b-b-baby…!”

Severus stood there, seemingly not knowing what to do or say, clutching at the box before slowly, he walked to the coffee table and let it rest there, sighing quietly, Walburga not looking up from her hands whilst she cried into them.

“I will come tomorrow to pick you up,” Severus told her gently. “There are other friends of yours at the Joleri Residence. I’m sure you’ll find stories like yours, people like you, Walburga. You’ll need for nothing there.”

“I want m-my family!” she cried out, looking at him with brimming eyes. “Give me back my family! My boys, my husband!”

Severus jerked, face twisting and he looked away before she could see the way he had to put himself together, “I’m sorry, Walburga.”

“ _THEN LEAVE!_ ” she shouted, then, standing to shove Severus out of the drawing room and the man stumbled into the hallway, surprised at her sudden outburst. “ _FILTH! SCUM! BY-PRODUCT OF DIRT AND VILENESS! HALF-BREED, MUTANT, FREAK, BEGONE FROM THIS PLACE! HOW DARE YOU…_ ”

* * *

“… _BEFOUL THE HOUSE OF MY FAMILY?!_ ”

Elías blinked, stunned for a moment, clutching at Severus’ arm as the professor helped him sit uptight, his head spinning as a now-familiar voice shouted from the drawing room. Elías gave a groan, opening his eyes fully to see Severus’ face crumbled with what almost looked like guilt.

“What the _fuck_ is that?” Elías croaked.

“Walburga,” Severus replied, wincing. “There’s a portrait I didn’t know about.”

“Fuck,” Elías breathed, finally gaining his balance, looking over at the drawing room where the shouting was coming from. He felt like he was almost vibrating out of his skin, tight with tension, heart in his throat. He couldn’t think about it. He couldn’t think _about it all_ , how unfair the whole thing was, how utterly _fucked_. “Shit, how do we –”

“You’re crying.”

Elías paused, hand moving to his eyes and yes, there was wetness he hadn’t noticed. The Spaniard pulled his hand away, watching his fingers, swallowing hard. Of course he’d been crying. That Sight had been heartbreaking.

“Oh,” he mumbled, face crumbling but quickly trying to pull himself back together.

“You saw her, didn’t you?” Severus asked quietly, lips pursing.

“I’m sorry,” Elías said, automatically and Severus sighed.

“No, you – could not help it,” he pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve, handing it to Elías and the other Slytherin took it with a quiet thanks as Walburga’s portrait shouted profanities at the top of her lungs. A testament to her brainwashing. “Do not be sorry.”

“That was awful,” Elías rasped at him, face twisted into an expression of sadness. “That was _awful_ , Sev. I… she was just gone, wasn’t she?”

“She’d been lost to dementia for a while,” Severus told him, lips pursed. “If I’m honest, the time I came to deliver Regulus’ belongings was the last time I saw her be… more like herself. More lucid. After that, she was just a bitter, angry shell of whom she used to be.”

“Poor woman,” Elías breathed.

“ _STAINS OF DISHONOR, FILTHY HALF-BLOOD, BLOOD TRAITOR, CHILD OF FILTH AND MUDBLOOD IN MY HOME!_ ” she shouted and Severus glanced at him, as if to gouge Elías’ reaction but Elías didn’t care much for her screaming.

“She’s a man-made monster,” Elías explained to him as he was finally able to stand on his own. “She was awful, yes. Apparently her portrait is, too. But she was gravely hurt all her life. She lost both her sons and husband. She lost her family, her language, her country, her culture. She lost _everything_ that made her… _her_.”

Severus watched him, looking… grateful, in a way.

“I know,” Severus finally said, sighing. “Regulus told me everything.”

“Then you probably know better than me,” Elías rubbed his face, giving Severus his handkerchief back. He leaned down, picking up his wand from the floor and quickly threw a muffling charm at the drawing room, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Fuck. Alright. Let’s assess the place. How big is it?”

“Are you alright?” Severus raised a hand to Elías’ shoulder but Elías shook it off.

“How many floors are there?” Elías insisted.

“Six stories,” Severus explained, choosing to let the other subject go as well. “Ground floor has drawing room, kitchen, and that hallway leading to the Black Library. If any cursed items are visibly on display, it’ll be there.”

“Alright,” Elías nodded, moving to the hallway next to the stairs. “Six stories – weren’t they four, in the family? Why so many fucking stories, so much room?”

“Rich people,” Severus shrugged.

“Ah, of course,” Elías rolled his eyes.

“Never understood the need for such an opulent… house,” Severus confessed quietly under his breath as they stepped into the dusty, abandoned hallway. There was so much dirt and dust accumulated in the windows that barely any sun – however little there was today in England – got through. A _lumos_ guided their way.

“Me neither,” Elías replied quietly. “Like, I get the appeal of a ballroom and a beautiful home, it _can_ be beautiful but… living in it feels kind of cold, doesn’t it? Like the Malfoy Manor. Pretty but – feels cold, somehow.”

Severus said nothing and Elías glanced at him as they finally reached the double doors at the end. There were other doors stewn about but Severus hadn’t so much as pointed them out. Maybe bathrooms. Rich people loved bathrooms.

“I agree,” the potioneer finally said quietly and Elías watched him, watched his dark eyes stare at the double doors, lips pursed, pensive and frowning. “I find them cold. I… rather enjoy the cramped feeling of my own house, in Spinner’s End. Even if it a place of bad memories, it feels closer. Safer.”

“Is that why El Rompido feels safe to you?” Elías asked curiously. “Because it’s smaller?”

“Perhaps,” Severus replied, turning his eyes to Elías’ face, roaming it for a moment before meeting his blues. “I must admit, the tile is… hostile to my British sensibilities.”

“Tiled floors are offensive to you,” Elías deadpanned.

“Thoroughly so,” Severus rolled his eyes before pushing the doors open.

Immediately, a wave of dust arose and Elías began to cough wildly, arm moving over his lower face while Severus pushed the cloud away with a gust of air from his wand. It was dark – so very, very, _very_ dark and Elías squinted as he took in the beginnings of library shelves in front of him. He could barely see one window covered by dark, heavy, dust-filled curtains and perhaps there was a corner there, but again, too dark.

“I can’t see anything,” Elías sighed, hand reaching for his wand. “Can’t you make it –”

Elías blinked, looking at his wand as he shook it but no light appeared. Severus watched him as Elías glanced over at him and the two understood at the same time.

“A diffusing enchantment,” Severus sighed, frowning towards the obscure halls. “I’ve never been here. Could’ve been placed before my visit to Walburga or after.”

“Does it matter when?” Elías frowned, putting more power into his _lumos_ before something finally shone at the tip, weak and miserable. What a waste of magic.

“If it’s older, it’s easier to break from a distance,” Severus grunted, glancing up at the ceiling before stepping aside and toeing the carpet under him aside, finding only floorboards. “How utterly tedious and unnecessary.”

“Why would you put a diffusing enchantment? Why not just – a full blackout?” Elías asked, closing the library doors in case the enchantment was in any of them.

“I don’t know,” Severus frowned, touching the wood of one of the tall, tall, _massive_ shelves – and in this muffled darkness, he couldn’t see the ceiling, nor the top of the shelf. Elías would’ve been drooling over the amount of books if he wasn’t encased in such darkness. It was cold and dry and… almost scary in this room. “My guess is that Walburga did it before she was taken to the residence. She did not possess enough of a… memory or mind to work a blackout enchantment – thus, a diffusing spell. At least that’s my guess.”

“She didn’t want anyone roaming here easily, huh?” Elías approached the middle section, looking over the closest tomes. One in particular caught his attention. “ _In Ages of Lies_ by Janette Wembling. Isn’t she a…”

“Eugenicist? Yes,” Severus gazed at the tome with disgust. “She had a particular… distaste for half-bloods. Wrote several books on us and why we _bred_ the way we did.”

“You mean how half-bloods tend to have magical children like, ninety percent of the time?” Elías asked, surprised.

“Mhmm,” Severus passed by him, moving deeper into the massive room and Elías gave one last look at the book before following him through the shelves, leaving the entrance to the library behind. “Oftentimes, it was said that the reason why we did was because we gave away half our magic to muggles. She considered us traitors, blood traitors.”

“Yikes,” Elías’ eyebrows shot up. “Wait, consider _ed_?”

“She’s dead,” Severus replied, stopping in front of a shelf, frowning as it faced them both before looking to one side, then the other. Elías barely paid attention to the left or right conundrum. “She studied pureblood ah, _breeding_ extensively. As if they were animals. As if all people were animals. She was… particularly distrusting of the way pureblood families often had squibs and half-blood families would have witches and wizards without – well, without disabilities.”

“You’d think she’d consider the inbreeding of pureblood families that was so prevalent in the 50s, huh?” Elías snorted.

“They never consider facts, as you know,” Severus said dryly before moving left and Elías followed so he wouldn’t get lost in the maze-like library of the Black House. “Data is subjective. What I don’t like is obviously fabricated by muggles. What I do like is absolutely indisputable and if you don’t believe it, you’re a blood traitor.”

“So just – Nazis,” Elías rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know much about muggle Nazis but… yes,” Severus shrugged. “In any case, Wembling was a woman who did a lot of harm. She was especially prevalent in the late 40s, and that is when Abraxas got involved in the Pureblood Cult.”

“Really? So late?” Elías frowned at him as Severus upped his pace with his ridiculously long lengs, Elías struggling to catch up to his twists and turns. “Didn’t he get involved at Hogwarts–”

“Yes,” Severus interrupted.

Elías’ stomach churned, “Wait, so… how old was Abraxas?”

“Seventeen,” Severus looked from side to side again, now in a three branch hall, choosing to go left once more and Elías followed him the best he could. “I believe it was 1956 when he… became the Dark Lord’s right hand. The year before Lucius was born.”

“His right hand,” Elías whispered, thinking of Lucius and the way his hands sometimes shook so hard that he had to dismiss himself from the table before anyone else noticed. Narcissa’s worried looks always haunted Elías but – but he’d thought it was something to do with physical health. Maybe he’d been wrong. His father had entered a cult when Lucius had been born, that meant – that meant Lucius had never _known_ a time without Voldemort. “Sev, I – How… old was Abraxas when he died?”

Severus paused, looking over Elías’ head behind him and Elías glanced to see just darkness, his wand clutched to his chest, feeling already queasy with his new knowledge of Walburga. And now… all this Malfoy information.

“… he was thirty seven,” Severus finished before walking once more, this time the way they came from. Elías just followed his hurried steps. “Dragon pox. Refused to get treatment. He was delusional with fever and his wife had already succumbed to it. Alerina was dead. His son had his grandparents, so what did he care?” he looked bitter and Elías felt his chest burn with pity.

“…he abandoned Lucius?” Elías rasped.

“Gladly abandoned his son,” Severus scowled, looking angrier and angrier as he just continued to speak, letting it all out. “Good-for-nothing _bastard_. Controlling and abusive and a _murderer_. He manipulated everyone around him to join the cult and he’s the reason why so many other families are in on it. The Parkinson’s, the Zabini’s, the _Yaxley’s_ are the first that come to mind. He manipulated them all. He killed his own daughter, traumatized his son, _abandoned him_ –” he cut himself off with another curse, teeth clicking. “Lucius may spoil Draco but at least Draco knows that he’s _loved and safe_. Lucius and Narcissa have both gone through _enough_ , they didn’t want their son to be rejected, abandoned, scared. Is that so bad?”

“No, no, i-it’s understandable,” Elías stuttered, trying to hurry as Severus’ pace through the maze of this library upped in speed. “There’s a fine line when educating children, I think, and – and after all, we _are_ human. I’m glad Draco has parents that love him very much, parents that care about him and how he does in life. I know I’m not super friends with Lucius as of now, but I do care for Narcissa and I care so _deeply_ about Draco, too, and –”

“I’m lost,” Severus growled lowly and Elías blinked as he cut him off.

“I – sorry,” he mumbled. “I suppose I beat around the bush a lot, er – I mean to say that I want to become friends with Lucius as well, the way I have with his wife and –”

“ _Elías_ ,” Severus hissed, stopping, and Elías nearly crashed into his back before the potioneer turned around, wand up. “I’m _lost_.”

Elías paused, taking in his words and he looked behind Severus only to realize that there was no hallway. Just a shelf. A _dead end_.

“Oh no,” Elías breathed, eyes wide, turning to Severus, who angrily turned around and touched the wood of the shelf, searching for any clues. “We’re _lost_?!”

“Fool, what a _fool_ I am, getting into this without alerting _anyone_ ,” Severus snarled at himself while Elías felt his heart jumping at his throat.

“Wait, wait, _wait_ ,” Elías ran a hand through his hair, eyes wide. “Fuck, alright, how – we’ve been inside only for like, a few minutes, we can’t have gone too far, right?”

“You’re thinking like a muggle in a maze,” Severus grunted, crouching to touch where the shelf and the floor connected, shoulders hunched and tensed. “This maze is moving. It’s a displacement spell – a displacement _trap_.”

“So we’re just – lost?” Elías giggled hysterically, his _lumos_ spell stuttering at the tip of his wand. His hands began to sweat. Cold, clammy hands coated now.

“We’re lost,” Severus sighed, standing, running a hand through his hair.

“But we _can’t_!” Elías told him, hands rushing to grasp Severus’ upper arms, eyes wide. “Pansy has her performance today! I promised her that we’d be here! And Harry – oh, no, no, _no_!” Elías groaned loudly, hands rubbing his face, whining. “No, _no_ … I hate this, I hate this, _fuck_ , how the fuck are we going to get –”

“We’re getting out,” Severus told him firmly, hand moving to grip Elías’ shoulder, looking annoyed. “We’re not missing the recital, we are not going to be _trapped_ in here. There must be a way.”

“This is the craziest shit that has ever happened to me,” Elías breathed, hands sliding up to grip his own hair, taking a step back, whining. “I’ve never been in a maze. I’ve always wanted to be in a maze, my favorite movie is _Labyrinth_ , for fuck’s sake! But not like this, in a – a dark, scary, possibly curse-filled room!”

“It is also not my definition of a good morning,” Severus told him, scowling.

“We should’ve left when we didn’t find the enchantment by the door. Oh my Gods, we are _so_ stupid,” Elías breathed, rubbing his face.

“Nothing we can do about that now, we just move forward,” Severus told him, straightening up, hand tight on his shoulder still. “We should try to apparate.”

“You think it’ll be that easy?” Elías asked him, incredulous.

“Could be dangerous,” Severus admitted, frowning. “But perhaps we ought to try.”

“Dangerous how?” Elías’ eyes widened.

“Well,” Severus took a deep breath, eyebrows lifting. “It could be like the anti-apparition enchantment at Hogwarts. We try to apparate and we cannot.”

“Alright, that’s – that’s not too bad. Gives us less options to get out of here but it doesn’t sound too horrible,” Elías breathed.

“Or it could be like Gringotts,” Severus added dryly, watching the darkened hallway, the only one they could go through. “Where the moment we apparate, an enchantment directs us to a certain room.”

“W… what?” Elías swallowed, eyes wide. “Gringotts does that?”

“Yes,” Severus sighed. “To the dragon room.”

“A _dragon_?!” Elías squeaked.

“Let’s apparate,” Severus decided, making Elías nearly slam his back against the shelf, eyes like saucers. “Elías, do _not_ be dramatic –”

“Just – jut hold on a _minute_ ,” Elías lifted a finger at Severus but the potioneer came closer. “Maybe the Black House doesn’t have a dragon, but perhaps it’s something much, much –”

Severus’ hand moved to grip Elías’ wrist and with a hearty pull, Elías nearly collapsed against his chest, one strong arm coming around Elías’ waist before the world spun and the shelves disappeared and everything tilted. When the spell was over, Elías’ face was right against Severus’ rabbit heart, his own in his throat, eyes squeezed shut as he waited for the low rumble of a dragon or – or _anything_.

“—worse,” Elías finally squeaked, nearly dropping his wand, scrambling to hold onto Severus back. “Pleasepleasepleaseplease _please_ , tell me there’s no dragon.”

“There’s no dragon,” Severus told him, sounding relieved, and Elías blinked rapidly and dared to glance over his shoulder, finding himself on the street outside of number 12. There was no one there, thankfully, and the sun had only moved slightly since they’d arrived, meaning there was no… timey wimey fuckery happening at the maze. Well, that was a relief.

“Oh,” Elías let go of his tight grip on Severus’ shirt and he took a shaky step back, letting out a quick breath with a little laugh. “O-okay, that’s… that’s a relief, h-huh?”

“You look about to have a heart attack,” Severus pointed out, lips curling and Elías punched his arm, grumbling.

“I thought we’d have to fight a _dragon_ , you idiot,” Elías groaned, walking back to the space between number 11 and 13, wincing. “At least we’re out. I say we leave the library for another day, yeah? Let’s just look at the rest of the house.”

“Agreed,” Severus sighed, following after him.

The two once more got inside the house, once it appeared, and this time Elías pointedly ignored the hallway leading to the library. Walburga was no longer screaming curses and obscenities and Severus and he, silently, began to ascend to the first floor. In truth, it was… it was a _lovely_ house, Elías could admit that much. Victorian home, all dark wood, with paintings hung along the walls – empty paintings. Perhaps once upon a time, they’d been filled with someone from Sirius’ family. Now they were gone.

The first floor led into a wide hallway with extremely old furniture, more paintings along the walls, ancient and delicate crystal chandeliers and various doors to the sides – one wide and tall arch at the very end, leading to what seemed like a study room. Elías could see the hints of – of _taxidermy_. He tried not to shiver.

“First floor is bigger,” Elías pointed out quietly, surprised.

“Wizarding homes do not have to make sense,” Severus pointed out, taking a careful step forward, waving his want to pulls the curtains back, letting some sunshine in so Severus could dissipate his _lumos_ spell. Elías did the same. With some more light, he could actually see the thousand cobwebs and the dust gathered at the top of everything.

“Could you imagine growing up here?” the Spaniard whispered as he approached one of the paintings, looking up at it – stagnant, enchantment on it long gone. One of the only paintings with someone in it. Whomever it was, they had grey eyes. “…such a big house.”

“I don’t have to imagine,” Severus told him, also stepping forward, glancing at one of the closed doors before trying the handle, opening it easily. “Regulus grew up here.”

“Right,” Elías whispered before turning to Severus as he stepped into another room, quickly moving after him, surprised to see what looked like another drawing room. “Oh. Another drawing room?”

“Parlor,” Severus replied, waving his wand once more to clear the windows from the curtains, wincing as dust lifted everywhere. “This is where guests are received, the moment they arrive.”

“So like, just another unnecessary room?” Elías snorted.

“Pretty much,” Severus looked about, frowning. “…doesn’t seem to have any dark presence. We must work quick – there are many rooms to look into and the biggest threats are to be detected and recorded so we can work them another time.”

“Right, right, yes,” Elías nodded, glancing about. “No black mold, no burning smell… seems like this room is clear of anything big.”

“You forget more signs of a curse,” Severus cocked an eyebrow at him and Elías stared, blinking, trying to think a bit. “Elías…” Severus sighed, arms crossing, turning to him. “You know this. And your sister has probably drilled this into you as well – what are the physical reactions of a curse?”

“Black mold,” Elías recited, frowning, biting his lower lip as he lifted a finger, then a second, “Er… burning smell, like – like burning plastic, mostly. Chemical and disgusting. Right, uh – _fuck_ , I knew this, I _know_ this! Don’t tell me!” he warned Severus, who simply nodded. “I remember – I think – uh… static? Like, a bunch of fucking static?”

Severus seemed satisfied, nodding, making Elías grin.

“Always remember,” the potioneer began, eyes on Elías’, lifting five fingers. “The five senses, Elías. What do you see, hear, taste, smell and feel? That will help you identify a lot of things, remember what you need to look out for.”

“Five senses, alright,” Elías whispered, nodding before giving him a smile.

“Black mold is what you can see. Wind howling is what you hear, sometimes whispers. Burning is what you smell. Ozone is what you taste. Static is what you feel,” he recited, walking out and Elías managed a small.

“You know, I’m pretty sure that you’d make a great Defense Against the Dark Arts professor,” he pointed out.

“Tell that to Dumbledore,” Severus rolled his eyes, walking out of the parlor and back into the hallway, Elías following after him. “He refused to give me the job. And now Lupin has it. I attempted to get it, of course – after Quirell, after Lockheart, as well. But Dumbledore does not budge.”

“Well, I’m glad that you’re at Hogwarts, still– you’re still an incredible potioneer,” Elías told him softly.

“Thank you,” Severus murmured, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Forgive me. I did not mean to _complain_.”

“Hey, no – _hey_ , Sev,” Elías sighed, moving in front of him, giving him a lopsided smile. “Dumbledore sucks. We both know this. You can bitch about things all you want, yeah? What are friends for?”

Severus watched him, looking fondly annoyed at him and Elías gave him a bigger smile. “Indeed,” the potioneer ended up saying, lifting a hand to brush some dust from Elías’ shoulder. “Let us continue. We’ve much to do.”

They truly did have much to do.

The Black House in 12 Grimmauld Place was _massive_ and the first floor took around an hour for them to clear. There were so many irrelevant and big rooms, it was _so stupid_ , so _insane_ to Elías that someone could possibly want all of these. Aside from the hundred fucking bathrooms, of course, where Elías actually found a stupid boggart attempting to turn into something before Elías just shut the bathroom door and marked it with a temporary X.

The second floor was no better, and neither was the third. There were small creatures, mostly doxies – in various states of decomposition, too – and Elías and Severus had to leave the fourth floor after they’d found a fucking _ashwinder_ that had burned through the fifth and sixth floor _and_ the roof, leaving a huge melted hole in the ballroom and the conservatory. Severus hadn’t hesitated to exterminate it in a quick swipe of his wand.

So by the time they had the sixth floor and the roof left, Severus and Elías were extremely annoyed, extremely dirty and extremely tired of the dust and putrid smells. There’d been all kinds of rooms by now – three dining rooms, two hearth rooms, a ballroom, a parlor, a larder, a sauna, a wine cellar in the _fourth floor_ , a pool room that smelled _disgusting_ , a fucking taxidermy room and even a psychomanteum – who the _hell_ had a psychomanteum in a Wizarding house?!

Worst of all, Elías was pretty sure the Malfoy Manor was bigger and this stupid fucking house was the _smallest_ of them all. Fuck rich people.

“I hate this house,” Elías grumbled, standing in front of a huge row of doors left and right. “How many _fucking rooms_ –”

“These are the bedrooms,” Severus replied to him, grunting as he walked towards the first on the right, trying to open it. Elías stood beside him, exhausted, seeing Severus use an _alohomora_ before he noticed the plaque hanging on the door, blinking at the scratches over the name.

“What…?” he breathed before Severus finally was able to break open the door, almost falling inside, an assault of red and gold and the both of them. “ _Oh_.”

“ _There_ it is,” Severus said with distaste, walking into the room, glancing about with such disdain in his eyes. Elías stared, stunned, not registering fully how utterly… _Sirius_ this room was. Posters of punk bands all over the walls, muggle trinkets spread around his desk, a bunch of Quidditch paraphernalia, polaroids stuck to the wall and – “Here you _are_.”

Severus stepped over to the bed and swiped something from it, his shoulders tense and Elías frowned, watching the potioneer as he looked at… a charm? It looked like a broach but with something hanging from it, a small orb that glittered.

“I knew he had it,” Severus rasped, looking almost angry. “Left it here, the _bastard_.”

“What is that?” Elías dared to ask quietly and Severus jerked slightly. He blinked, anger leaving his eyes before clearing his throat and turning to Elías. He looked like he wanted nothing less than to explain to Elías, and the Spaniard would’ve told him that it was okay not to tell him when Severus opened his mouth.

“It’s Regulus’ star,” he explained and Elías blinked.

“His… his what?” the Slytherin asked.

“His _star_ ,” Severus approached slowly, palm opening, revealing that orb and –

“Oh, _oh my Gods_ , that is gorgeous,” Elías breathed, eyes wide.

It wasn’t just a charm, it was a _magic marble_. Dark as night, starts in the background glittering but the biggest of all, shining in the middle the way Elías had seen it a thousand times through the telescope, was _Regulus_. GJ 9316. _Basiliscus_ in Ancient Greek. _Little King_. The brightest star in Leo’s constellation.

Regulus.

“Regulus’ star…” Elías murmured, looking up at Severus and his wounded look. “Does every Black get one?”

“Every Black gets one,” Severus nodded, gently pocketing the charm, sighing with what almost seemed like relief as he did. “Even those who marry into the Black family get one. I’m very sure Walburga had one of her own, I believe it was Denebola.”

“Another star in Leo,” Elías murmured, looking around the room, wondering when Sirius had come by. After Regulus’ death, surely. Perhaps after Walburga had left and the house had been abandoned – dead father, dead brother, and a mother that hated him. It made his eyes burn, thinking of Sirius looking at Regulus’ star and leaving it over his bed. His younger brother – his _younger brother_. “We – we should continue,” Elías said nasally, turning away from Sirius’ room, not wanting to touch anything. What he did not want was a stupid fucking Sight, _another_ , perhaps even more painful than the previous. One that would breach Sirius’ privacy and pain and mourning even more than he already had.

Elías missed Sirius. And he wished things were better for him.

“Are you… alright?” Severus asked slowly as they both closed the door of Sirius’ room.

“I should be asking you that,” Elías replied quietly, turning to him.

“I am, now,” Severus confessed, glancing away, hand running over his pocket and taking a deep breath. “Corban and I have been looking for it for a long time. For Narcissa.”

“Oh,” Elías murmured, feeling a pang of sadness hit him. “She… she probably would like to have a few things from here, right?”

“Very probably, yes,” Severus glanced about, sighing. “Many Black heirlooms… I believe there was a painting of her and her sisters around here but I haven’t encountered it, yet.”

Elías nodded, swallowing, looking exhausted at the rows of bedrooms lined up. He could see the R.A.B. on the plaque, on the door right in front of Sirius’ room and he suddenly felt his stomach churn, despite being empty.

How much pain would there be in that room? How many memories that would strike Severus with acrid taste? How much could the potioneer take of seeing his dead best friend’s room, searching for mementos to give to Narcissa so she could properly _mourn_?

“Can we leave this floor for another day?” Elías asked quietly, strangled, and Severus looked over at him as Elías winced. “Please?”

The Potions Master sighed, nodding, rubbing the bridge of his nose before turning around, “I agree with you. It’s best to leave this floor for another time. We’re done for the day.”

“Thank you,” Elías said quietly, following him as he pulled out a little notebook that he’d been using to keep track of everything, his wand hitting his thigh whilst he stepped down through the stairs. He read over it a few times, blinking past the tears blurring his vision, trying not to think of Sirius and Walburga and Regulus. Elías’ brain was barely working and he read his handwriting in Spanish before finally speaking up in English. “So far, seventeen rooms are plagued with creatures and three rooms have curses. We’ve spotted twenty six cursed items and three doors have been locked beyond simple keys or spells. There are three spots of damage that are to be taken seriously, especially the ashwinder, since there could be more, but… it seems a little better than I expected.”

“It used to be a noble house,” Severus told him, lips pursed. “Now it’s just a haunted ground.”

“I’m surprised Walburga isn’t here as a ghost,” Elías murmured, shuddering. “She seems to type to want to haunt the rest of the Black family.”

“She died in the residence,” Severus replied. “So no chance.”

“I’ll consider ourselves lucky,” Elías grunted quietly as they finally reached the ground floor, letting out a sigh. “It’s so fucking late to be eating but – fuck it, you want to grab a bite?”

“I’d rather go home, if I’m honest,” Severus confessed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Elías nodded, rubbing the side of his neck when he heard his friend speak up again. “Would… you like to come with me?”

“Yes,” Elías replied immediately, giving one last glance at the house, wincing. “Christ, I feel like someone’s watching me.”

“So do I,” Severus breathed, opening the double doors to the outside. “Let’s get out of here.”


	13. Stuck In Second Gear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everybody! I hope that 2021 has been treating you all well, at least so far. Let's try and stay optimistic about this year!
> 
> Regarding the chapter: I thought a lot about this chapter and what I wanted to do, and portray. And then I seeked out black ballerinas and poc who have been ballerinas to give me their input. I've actually received quite some stories and read a lot of articles on it, and this chapter was supervised and done thanks to my friend June - thank you very much, and thank you for sharing your story and making sure that Pansy is a much more real and much more respectful depiction of these struggles. You're the best.
> 
> For the rest, I'd suggest the channel NOWNESS, where the video "The Uncomfortable Truth of Being a Black Ballerina" sheds a lot of light on the problems that black women face in ballet. It isn't just a problem with someone like Madame Ivett within this chapter - it is a systemic, systematic issue that will not be finished after you fire someone. Listen to women of color and their struggles. 
> 
> With that said, enjoy the chapter. It's optimistic.
> 
> Songs in this Chapter:  
> \- Swan Lake, Op. 20, Act 2: No. 10, Scène (Moderato), by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky  
> \- This Year, by the Mountain Goats
> 
> Trigger Warnings in this Chapter:  
> \- Racism  
> \- Addiction  
> \- ED's  
> \- Child abuse  
> \- Anxiety  
> \- Self-blame for mental illness  
> \- Smoking
> 
> These accompass the overall trigger warnings but it's a tough chapter. It's written to be optimistic and a little uplifting, but a lot of times the ballerinas can't quit. 
> 
> As an added note, I am so sorry to the Hungarian folk reading this because it wouldn't let me use the double accent on the M of Igazi Mureszeti Akademia. It means "The Real Arts Academy" and it is the official Hungarian school of magic.

The _Solar Operaház_ was filled to the brim that mid-July afternoon and, in the narrow corridors leading to the backstage, Pansy Parkinson fiddled with the pearls in her hair, sitting on a velvet red stool, staring at her pointe shoes. She could hear the bustling crowd roaming through the opera house and she took a deep breath – as deep as her nervousness allowed – and tried to calm her racing heart.

“Do you see it?”

“I see him, I see him!”

“I think I’m going to throw up…”

The little witch glanced over at her friends in the Ashviselte dancing company, all of them already dressed and ready to perform, their hair pulled into intricate, beautiful up-do’s and she felt her own chest tighten again, hand rushing to her own bun. She… she hadn’t straightened her hair and at first it’d been a statement, a rebellious moment but now anxiety ate her from the inside.

“Me too,” she mumbled, perfect Hungarian slipping from her lips and the three of her friends turned to her, displaying different faces of surprise. Pansy thought about all those times when _she_ had been the pillar of support, the calm and collected one, the friend who had it all together.

“Is it because you’re sending Madame Ivett to Hell?” Gabriella asked, quickly approaching Pansy, her radiant skin reflecting the bright lights like a miniature moon. When Pansy had arrived at the Ashviselte Troupe, she’d been jealous and mean to her. And now Gabriella was her biggest cheerleader and one of her best friends in Szeged.

“A bit,” Pansy confessed, letting out a hysterical laugh, hand rushing to her throat as her voice broke. “Oh, Merlin…”

“You’re doing the right thing,” Mira told Pansy firmly, crossing her legs and dropping onto the floor in front of her, gently taking Pansy’s feet and rubbing her calves. Mira had arrived the latest and she’d been a ball of sunshine from the very beginning – bright and loud and everything Madame Ivett hated in women. “Because for _once_ , you get to do what you should’ve been doing all along.”

“Yeah!” Gabrielle agreed firmly, hand shooting out to squeeze Pansy’s shoulder. “Mira is right!”

“You should’ve been prima from the get-go,” Szofi scowled, still standing, her makeup incredible. Her cheeks tonight were a bright pink and her Sugarplum Fairy dress was exquisite. When she’d walked out of the changing room, Pansy had been left pretty much breathless. “And not because of your mom or because you’ve always been denied prima – it’s because you’re _good_.”

“Not at ballet,” Pansy mumbled.

“Bullshit,” Szofi narrowed her eyes, pushing back a blonde curl from her eyes, huffing. “You’re _amazing_. So what if your face isn’t stone? It shouldn’t be!”

“Madame Ivett is going to kick me out,” Pansy breathed, hand over her face, feeling her shoulders shake. “Oh, what am I doing? Why did I think I could –?”

“Because you can!” Mira insisted, slapping her leg gently, brown eyes wide. “Pansy, you can do this! We bribed the orchestra, we worked on your makeup and dress, you’re right at the door, don’t give up! Don’t walk away!”

“You’re going to go out there and _kick ass_ ,” Gabriella insisted, making Pansy nod, her eyes stinging a bit.

“Mom is gonna kill me,” she laughed, trying not to cry, trying not to ruin her makeup that her friends had worked so hard on, sobbing quietly.

“No, she’s not,” Gabriella said softly, hands reaching over to hug Pansy gently, making sure all that delicate hairstyling didn’t get ruined. “She’s going to be angry at everything else, when she finds out about Madame Ivett.”

“Mom and dad worked so hard on – on this Opera House,” Pansy told them as Szofi gently took a handkerchief and patted her tears away. “I don’t want them to know how – how Madame Ivett is, because there’s going to be this huge thing happening but – but I also don’t want to just do _nothing_.”

“Pansy…” Mira whispered, eyes wide and Gabriella pursed her lips.

“We don’t… we don’t _know_ what you’re going through,” she began slowly, making Pansy look over at her. “I’m sorry we can’t –”

“I would never want you guys to know what I’m going through,” Pansy said firmly, shaking her head. “It’s horrible, it’s –”

“No, no, no! I mean – oh, fuck,” Gabriella groaned, rubbing her forehead gently before crouching next to Pansy, sighing. “I mean that I’m sorry we can only empathize and try to imagine what you’re going through. Because – because these things fucking suck and I hate that it’s affecting so many. You shouldn’t have to be pushed to the back because you’re black, Pansy,” she mumbled. “We’re all white here, all of us, you must feel so isolated…”

“Sometimes I do,” Pansy nodded, her friends looking at her with sadness. “But – but you guys _listen_ to me. And a lot of people don’t do that. You all _changed_ for me, took everything I said seriously, never to heart. You’ve improved and – and you’re _bribing the orchestra_ for me!”

“Hell yeah, we did,” Szofi snickered and Mira gave a laugh as Pansy gave a small smile.

“There are things you will never understand,” Pansy told them all quietly as the laughter subsided. “And there are things that – that I can only speak about with other black and mixed girls but – but you all are my friends. And I’m glad you take my pain seriously.”

“We take _you_ seriously,” Gabriella said firmly, hands on her shoulders, grinning widely. “And tonight you’re going to make everyone just _die_ with envy!”

“Yeah!” Mira said excitedly, standing and pulling Pansy up, her smile so bright that Pansy was nearly in tears again. “We’re going to make them see! We’re going to show them that this troupe will not let racism just go by! Either we do something about the racism in this Opera House or we leave! No more!”

“And no more eating disorders,” Szofi breathed out.

“And no more _smoking_ ,” Gabriella put her foot down.

“No more,” Pansy murmured, squeezing their hands, giving a small smile. “I love you, guys.”

Mira immediately began a group hug, always so hungry for physical affection. Pansy had been a bit perturbed at the beginning by it but now she welcomed it easily, holding her friends, her cheerleaders, her biggest inspiration in an art form that was so unwelcoming to girls with Mira’s body type, Pansy’s skin color, Gabriella’s passion and Szofi’s attitude.

A knock interrupted them, making all the girls tense up. They all glanced at the door, waiting for Madame Ivett to walk in but, instead, Pansy heard a familiar voice speak in British English, making her perk up.

“Er… Pansy? Are you there?” came through the other side of the door and the little ballerina scrambled to open it, grinning widely, seeing all of her friends from Hogwarts there. _All of them_.

Draco, Theo, Greg, Vince, Blaise and even Harry, Ron and Hermione there. It stunned her to the core, seeing them in semi-formal wear, Blaise holding a bouquet of beautiful pansies, her favorite flowers, and almost instantly, all of her anxiety vanished like smoke in an alley at the back of a ballet studio, Pansy falling immediately into Vince’s arms, the one directly in front of her.

“ _Guys!_ ” she laughed, eyes and just her entire face burning, happiness exploding as English rolled out a bit more clumsily out of her tongue. “Guys, you’re _here!_ ”

“Pansy!” Hermione gasped, eyes wide.

“Wow,” Theo breathed as he saw her, his blue eyes wide and when Pansy pulled away, Vince’s face was a bright red. “Pansy, you… you look…”

“You look beautiful,” Blaise said softly, hands moving to offer the bouquet, which Pansy took as she fanned her face, chin quivering.

“You guys are so sweet,” she laughed, sniffling. “I’m – this means a lot, I… I didn’t think all of you would come –”

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Draco told her firmly and she looked at his nervous disposition, the way his shoulders were curled. Draco hated crowded places and surely they’d come through the front doors, which meant a wild crowd. Pansy felt like she’d never appreciated Draco enough.

“I’ve never been to the ballet,” Ron told her, making Pansy turn to him, smiling brightly. “And Theo is always talking about how talented you are, so… I mean, it’d be rude not to come?”

“Yes,” Harry nodded, smiling at Pansy, a bit lopsided. He wore formal clothes as well, but much more muggle than everybody else. Pansy suddenly realized that Professor Fernández would also be here to watch her and nervousness spiked up. “And we really wanted to see you dance.”

“Thank you,” Pansy whispered, starting to calm down and pretty soon, she heard her friends walk over, pressing against her back, glancing at all her British friends.

“Who are they?” Gabriella asked, accent thick, eyes roaming.

“So many _boys_ ,” Mira giggled and Pansy gave a laugh.

“Hello,” Szofi waved.

“ _These are my friends_ ,” Pansy told them in Hungarian, smiling widely, turning to Hermione and pulling her closer, making the Gryffindor blink with surprise. “Let me introduce you all!”

Having her friends beside her before the performance truly made a huge difference and the merging of two worlds that were so important to her made Pansy feel at ease. She put the bouquet aside, inside a cup that Szofi filled with water from the bathroom and as Mira and Gabriella spoke to Blaise and Vince about Hogwarts and Igazi Ḿurészeti Akadémia, she turned to Theo, her eyes wide.

“How did you get here?” she asked, a slow smile on her lips as her tall friend gave a lopsided grin and pointed at Hermione.

“She had the idea,” he confessed and Pansy laughed.

“What did you _do_?” Pansy grinned, seeing Hermione cross her arms triumphantly.

“So you know how Theo’s dad took away his broom and all that so he wouldn’t be able to leave the house this summer?” she asked and Pansy nodded, hands on her hips. “Well, he casted a _lot_ of spells so Theo wouldn’t be able to leave but he forgot one tiny little thing.”

“What?” Pansy smiled.

“Bicycles,” Ron told her, clicking his tongue. “Hermione is _brilliant_ –”

“Theo’s dad didn’t expect us all to show up in bikes!” Harry laughed and Theo nodded, looking delighted. “I had to share with Blaise but we were _super fast_ –”

“Professor Fernández even let me use his old bike,” Greg told her, eyes bright. “We just burst into the Nott property and Theo used his sheets to come down –”

“I had to _basically_ jump the last floor!” Theo told her and Pansy gave a loud laugh. “Harry had to catch me!”

“Sorry I let us fall to the floor,” the boy mumbled and Theo just knocked shoulders with him.

“Nah, mate, that was fun!” he told him, beaming. “Summer adventure!”

“Summer adventure!” Pansy told them all, her chest full of gratefulness for her so very caring friends. “Oh, Merlin, your father will _kill_ you when you get back, Theo…”

“Bah,” Theo shook it off, rolling his eyes, running a hand through his wavy hair and shrugging. “He’s always looking for an excuse to beat my ass. At least I’m having fun right now, and I _had_ to come. Biking to Greg’s town was also a lot of fun.”

“It was a _lot_ of work, though,” Hermione whined a bit and Draco laughed.

“Granger, you sat on the back of _my bike_ ,” he told her.

“I still had to stand up! And I’m wearing a dress!” she huffed.

“I did all the work –”

“I did the _mental work_.”

“Sorry I couldn’t do that one, someone punched the smarts out of me last year,” he rolled his eyes and Ron snorted before Theo burst out laughing, making Pansy and Hermione actually laugh as well.

“Glad to see you two are finally getting along,” Pansy told them, snickering before she just… took all of it in, her hands in front of her, clutching at each other. “But… I do appreciate what you’ve done. You – you guys will get into a lot of trouble…”

“It’s worth it,” Theo said firmly, making her nearly cry again. “We know how much today means for you, Pans.”

“Yeah,” she rasped, seeing Vince and Blaise walk over, the latter wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He looked solemn, as always, but there was tenderness as he pulled her closer. “I… I love you, guys.”

“We love you, too,” Vince told her, his hand gently reaching for her, squeezing. “You’re very brave, Pansy.”

“I don’t feel brave, I’m _so_ scared,” she confessed.

“That’s what bravery is, though,” Harry spoke up, making her turn to him, to his bright green eyes, his handsome face. Pansy’s heart jumped as his eyes went serious. “It’s… doing the things that scare you – _despite_ being scared, you… do them. And you go through them. And you don’t always have to do it alone, either.”

Ron gave a small smile, arm thrown over Harry’s shoulders, “Yes! Pansy, he’s right!”

“We’re Gryffindors, we know what we’re talking about.” Hermione told her, grinning. She wore a cute yellow dress today with pearl earrings and Pansy was reminded that she wasn’t alone in her pain, in her frustrations.

This vaired, strange group of friends had decided that she was worth planning an escape from the Nott Manor, worth biking five kilometers to the next town to get to Szeged, worth sweating under the July sun for hours, just to see her break everything her mother and father had built over the years.

A year ago, she wouldn’t have thought of Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger as her friends but here they were, able to prove her wrong. Pansy hugged Hermione for a moment, unbearable grateful, and as they all exited the changing rooms, Pansy felt calmer than ever, bending over to tighten the laces of her shoes and squaring her shoulders.

Madame Ivett came five minutes before the performance to the door, merely knocking on it and telling them to be ready. If she’d walked in, she would’ve noticed Pansy’s clothes, her makeup and hair, the fact that _no_ , she would not be Esmeralda tonight.

She would be Odette.

* * *

“Where are the kids?”

“Getting into trouble, I am sure,” Lucius sighed, rubbing his brow, a champagne glass on one hand as he leaned against the wall.

They were not seated yet, waiting for the rest to show up but Elías was a bit worried, his knee bouncing and his arms crossed. Kiera and Felix didn’t seem bothered but he hadn’t seen Harry since this morning, and now Elías and Lucius sat, waiting for everyone to find the kids, the only two people who had never been in the Opera House of the Szeged magical community before. He didn’t know where the kid was, even if George had assured him dryly that all of the kids had arrived at his home in all of their bikes with a runaway Theodore. That last part explained a lot about Harry asking for his old bicycle during breakfast that morning.

“I’m just… worried,” Elías mumbled and Lucius looked up, his icy blues on Elías’ almost-greys. “I mean –”

“You’re a new father,” Lucius told him, making Elías’ jaw click shut. “Of course you are worried. Of course you are wondering where he’s been all day. Trust me, the feeling never goes away, but you do learn to deal with it.”

“It’s not – it’s a bit different,” Elías rubbed his face, groaning. “They’re running _everywhere_. It’s not like they’re all muggles, staying in one town, and I know where they _are_. He went from Cádiz to the Burrow, to Edinburgh, to just… all over Kent and now we’re at Szeged. I’ve trouble keeping up.”

“Ah, I see,” Lucius hummed, hand propping up his chin, watching the muggleborn. “That is the problem you’re facing. You haven’t gotten used to this traveling style yet.”

“Not at all,” Elías sighed, rubbing his face, eyes closing, dropping his head back against the comfortable seat in one of the luxurious waiting rooms. He chose not to grab a glass of champagne but that didn’t stop Lucius from finishing his. “Lucius?”

“Hmm?”

“I hope Draco is doing better,” he confessed and the pureblood on the other side of the table froze for a moment. “Sorry,” Elías quickly said, seeing the reaction with a wince. “I just – I care about Draco –”

“I know,” Lucius’ eye twitched. “You care about all the children, yes, I _know_ that. It just took me by surprise, is all. I… suppose Severus has been keeping you up to date?”

“Yeah,” Elías felt a bit guilty as Lucius sighed.

“I suppose that’s understandable,” he murmured, rubbing his jaw, staring at the wall instead of the professor. “I do not know what to do with… all of it, I’m afraid. Severus has told me that you suggested this morning to get another therapist.”

“Yes,” Elías nodded firmly. “It’s… a bit of a gamble, I’m afraid.”

“Well, money isn’t a problem,” Lucius whispered, face crisping into a mask of concern. “My issue is… Draco’s health. The more time that passes, the more he wants to keep to himself, to the people he already knows, to the places he already knows.”

“Anxiety does that,” Elías said slowly and Lucius swallowed visibly, finally meeting Elías’ gaze.

“So inclined to diagnose my child, are you?” he accused but Elías knew someone scared when he saw one.

“Perhaps I’m way in over my head,” he admitted. “But anxiety is often why people pull out their hair and feel like a wreck in crowds.”

“I didn’t know any of this until recently,” Lucius told him, looking frustrated. “He seemed happy. _Confident_. I’m inclined to believe that it has to do with _Potter_.”

“I’m inclined to believe that Draco just turned fourteen,” Elías replied, frowning. “And perhaps Harry has something to do with it, but he is not to blame. Mental illness can stem from a lot of causes and you can’t blame another kid for Draco’s anxiety.”

“Who’s left to blame?” Lucius asked bitterly, miserably, staring at his empty glass. “Me?”

“Well, I’m sure you already do that,” Elías put softly and Lucius laughed dryly.

“How observant of you,” he scowled.

“You’re not the reason of your boy’s anxiety, Lucius,” Elías said firmly, eyes on the blonde, watching his tense posture. “There could be a thousand reasons. Or even none. Sometimes the brain just doesn’t produce the chemicals we need. And sometimes other things happen.”

“I don’t want him to be scared,” Lucius murmured, glaring at the glass, deeper and deeper, looking disgusted, probably with himself.

“Being scared is part of being alive,” Elías shrugged. “You just said it yourself – it never goes away. But you get used to it.”

“Draco isn’t getting used to it, though,” Lucius closed his eyes and sighed. “It’s the Malfoy in him. We’re all cowards. All the Malfoy men run.”

“I don’t see you running,” Elías offered and Lucius’ eyes opened slowly, watching the professor with confusion. “You’re here, right? You’re trying to get your son to therapy. You’re with everyone else who pushed aside… the beliefs that built all the bad things that happened not so long ago,” Elías shrugged, giving him a lopsided smile. “You and I are friends. You didn’t run from me, you looked me in the eye and decided to accept that I’d be here.”

“You… consider us friends,” Lucius said slowly, cocking an eyebrow.

“Close acquaintances, if you’d rather,” Elías replied. “But I do appreciate your wife a lot. Narcissa _is_ someone I can definitely call a friend.”

“I know,” Lucius sighed, looking almost defeated. “She… did appreciate what you and Severus found.”

“Regulus’ star,” Elías felt a spike of pity but he pushed the feeling away. “Yes. We… yes. I’m glad she has it now.”

“Me too,” Lucius murmured and he opened his mouth, about to say something else when the doors to the waiting room opened and Kiera and Felix walked in, alongside everyone else, the kids right behind. “Ah,” Lucius stood, Elías rushing to Harry. “So here they are.”

“There you are!” Elías laughed, reaching the little troupe, relief running through him as he rushed to hug Harry to him, breathing out. “You guys – _where have you been_?!”

“Getting into trouble,” Severus scowled, arms crossing.

“They broke into the Nott Manor,” Kiera sighed, rubbing her neck.

“You _what_?” Elías’ eyes widened, rushing to look at Theo, who gave a sheepish look but Ron spoke up.

“We broke Harry out of the Dursley’s before, and we had a flying car back then!” he squawked. “This time we just took some bicycles, it’s not that bad!”

“You _had a what_?” Narcissa spluttered.

“Er…” Ron flushed.

“Show is about to start!” Elías called, herding the adults towards the stairs, his eyes meeting with Harry’s before he gave a look of _I’ll talk to you all later_. Severus fell into step beside him as everyone moved along the ostentatious halls of the Opera House, making Elías blow out a long breath, whispering, “Christ. What did they _do_?”

“On the driveway, in summer, at a thousand degrees under the Sun, just… went on their bicycles and broke through the back gate of the Nott Manor to _rescue_ Theodore,” Severus told him, jaw tight. “I had to spend an entire hour with Senator Nott and stop him from possibly committing murder.”

“Fuck,” Elías breathed, worriedly looking at Theodore, his heart jumping to his throat.

“It won’t be pretty,” Severus agreed quietly, the two falling to the very back of the group as Kiera and Felix guided them to their places. “I’m afraid of what will happen after, when Theodore has to go back.”

“So am I,” Elías bit his thumb nail, feeling his hands shake a bit. “Oh, those _kids_ … I understand that they want to help Theodore but when we can’t do anything about this, it almost feels like they’re _provoking_ him –”

“He is,” Severus replied, lips pursed, and Elías turned to him with surprise. “I don’t know how to explain it to you, that… inherent anger that Theodore is feeling. I know it well. I know it _very_ well.”

Elías watched him, heart tight, shrinking, like a stab in the gut, “…right, you…”

“Yes. _I_ ,” Severus scoffed a bit but there was sympathy swimming in his dark eyes, which he quickly tried to tame. At this point, though, there was little Severus could do about hiding his emotions from Elías. “It’ll be bad. But he’ll survive.”

“How do you know?” Elías swallowed.

“I did,” Severus stared at the back of the boy’s head as he laughed with Draco, Narcissa quickly telling them both to be a bit less loud. They climbed the last part of the stairs and Harry muttered something to Theo, making him snicker, fondness spreading through Elías. He’d do anything for those kids. “I survived. And so will he. He’s stronger, more stubborn, and – and he has good friends.”

Elías stopped as Severus paused on the stairs, the others moving on, not noticing that they both fell back and he was reminded of the mixtapes he’d given Theo – mixtapes with angry songs that had helped Elías when he’d been a teen, with blood over his teeth and so much anger that he felt like he was bursting at the seams. In a way, that had felt like righteous anger and it’d gotten him through a lot. On the other hand, he didn’t think Severus had been angry, merely sad but… now he didn’t know.

Not with the way Severus had to take several deep breaths, hand over his mouth.

“Are you alright?” Elías asked, moving down the couple of steps separating him and Severus, his hand reaching for his right arm. “Hey…”

“I’m alright,” Severus whispered, glaring over Elías’ shoulder. “Nott reminds me of my father.”

“So he’s just a downright piece of shit,” Elías said dryly.

“Quite so,” Severus snorted, looking at Elías with a wince. “I… have found myself becoming more protective of the boy.”

Elías blinked, “Of Theo?”

“Yes.”

“And you think that’s bad.”

“There is nothing we can do about his situation,” Severus told him, looking annoyed. “And that is what bothers me. What _angers_ me. That no matter how many anonymous letters I send to the Ministry and CPS, they will always be dismissed.”

“I’ve sent a bunch, too,” Elías confessed quietly. “They… they weren’t treated like Harry’s letter.”

“I would’ve guessed so,” Severus sighed, running a hand through his hair and Elías looked away, not wanting to think about Severus’ bone structure when they were discussing something so serious. “We should catch up with the rest.”

“Yeah,” Elías nodded, rubbing his nose, looking over to the far hallway. “Let’s… let’s just make sure that while he’s away from home, he gets a respite.”

“Hm.”

* * *

Ballet was boring.

Harry sat on one of the boxes of the Opera House and watched one of those Hungarian girls in the changing room dance to something pitched and delicate, leaning against Hermione’s chair as she watched it all with wide, sparkling eyes. Ron seemed as bored as he was, at least, and Theo turned to him when the second girl was done, whispering.

“None of these girls dance like Pansy,” he told him and Harry believed him, thinking of her drive and passion that so often reminded him of Hermione when she had to get something done.

“I believe you,” Harry turned to Theo, then murmured, “Is she really going to do it?”

“Yeah,” Theo nodded, smile dropping, watching the stage. “Yeah, she is.”

Harry felt discomfort shake his guts, thinking of Pansy all alone, so tiny in that huge stage, in front of everyone. He didn’t know much about ballet, about dancing or the high arts of whatever this was – but he did know a lot about people telling you that you couldn’t do things based on the color of your skin. Harry wasn’t stupid, he knew people mistreated Hermione tenfold than they did him, too, and what he didn’t want was for Pansy to be so far away from all of them, from her friends.

“There she is!” Greg whisper-yelled, eyes wide, back straightening and all the teenagers in the box rushed to the edge of it, watching. The adults were on the box next to them and Harry glanced over, seeing Mr and Mrs Parkinson smile proudly as Pansy walked out from backstage onto the center of it all.

“Oh no,” Draco breathed and Harry’s eyes snapped to him. “That’s her. That’s Madame Ivett, isn’t it?”

“Where?” Harry asked, trying to see and Draco inconspicuously pointed at a lady that he could see from the side lane if he leaned a lot into Draco’s space, his eyes narrowing at the mask of absolute _anger_ she sported. “She noticed, didn’t she?”

“Fuck her,” Draco said bitterly, making Ron snort.

“For once, Malfoy, we agree,” he poked his head closer and Pansy got into position while the lady freaked out, very obviously trying to be quiet about her meltdown, some poor guy next to her panicking as well. “She can’t do anything, right?”

“She can’t do _anything_ ,” Blaise smirked and Pansy seemed to take a deep breath, her chin high, hands above her head. Harry was reminded of those ballerinas in music boxes, always so perfectly poised.

The music began.

Harry knew the song, he’d heard it before, but it didn’t ignite the emotion he felt right then and there, hands gripping the edge of the box, watching his newfound friend move her legs and arms like flowing water. His shoulder was still pressed to Draco but he felt paralyzed in that moment, watching Pansy dance, pointe moving through the stage.

“What is she doing?” he heard and he turned to the other box, seeing Mrs Parkinson’s wide eyes. “Felix – Felix, what is she _doing_?”

“She…” Felix whispered, hand moving around her arm, eyes on their daughter. “She… made a solo?”

“What?” Kiera breathed. “But –”

“I don’t _know_.”

Harry looked away from them, watching Pansy and Hermione whispered over to him, seeing his confusion, “This is the Swan Theme. It’s supposed to be with a partner.”

“She’s alone,” Harry pointed out, watching Pansy move, following her every step.

“She’s alone, which means she _made_ this,” Hermione told him, excited. “Odette, the swan maiden, is under a spell and only true love can break it. This scene is when the prince meets her but – but Pansy is doing it _solo_.”

“What’s that mean?” Ron asked her and Blaise spoke up.

“It means that Pansy, as Odette, does not want a prince to save her,” he told them all, leaning forward towards the edge of the box, his eyes never leaving his friend. “It means that Pansy has chosen to not go by the rules. She’s a mixed black girl and she’s performing a white ballet – and not as Odile, but as Odette. Not as the black swan, but as the white swan. This is a big fuck you to Madame Ivett, who has been constantly pushing her aside for every role she’s wanted to do.”

“You _go_ , Pansy,” Ron said, sounding impressed and Harry watched, throat tight, wondering how such a beautiful moment could be an act of rebellion, the music swelling as Mamade Ivett on the side of the stage shoved the boy away from her and tried to gesture at Pansy while she spun like delicate snow falling, a perfect form.

“She’s beautiful,” Hermione whispered, hand clutching the front of her dress and Harry’s mouth was too try to interject, Vince speaking up quietly.

“She’s always been really pretty,” he mumbled, almost to himself.

Pansy danced and danced and danced and every fierce expression on her face told a story, every move told Harry what she wanted to convey, to tell to this audience and as the brass became louder and louder, her strong legs shifted and she _lept_ from the back of the stage to the center, spinning, her body taut and her chin high.

Harry felt his stomach swoop, cheeks burning, a shiver running up his spine and before he knew it, he was rubbing over his mouth, feeling thoroughly embarrassed for some reason, toes curling inside his brand new shoes. He felt something funny in his stomach, seeing the awe in everyone’s faces as they watched her, brave and no-nonsense Pansy Parkinson, showing everyone what she was capable of.

When the song was over, she held her stance, and Harry clumsily stood as the entire crowd jumped into a roar of applause, some of it confused but when he glanced at the other box full of parents, he saw tears in Mrs Parkinson’s eyes, her smile blinding.

“Blimey,” Ron mumbled and Harry saw his cheeks a ruby red. He… felt very much the same.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” Vince urged them all out of the box and Harry agreed, the teenagers all rushing into the hallway, uncaring of Mrs Zabini’s voice telling them not to run, to wait for them. None of them cared and Harry felt the urge to see Pansy, his heart beating so fast that he was sure everyone else could hear it, face still burning.

They quickly reached the changing rooms and, immediately, heard screaming in Hungarian, making Harry pause, freezing up, his eyes wide. Most of the group did it, too, all of them so surprised to hear such anger and volume but Hermione just charged forth, opening the door without knocking and immediately running to hug Pansy, whose face was full of tears.

“Hermione!” Pansy gasped, eyes wide, Madame Ivett red in the face, looking about to explode but Hermione’s courage had Blaise rushing in as well, moving between her and his friends, glaring hard.

“Stop screaming at her!” he snapped at the ballet teacher, Harry noticing the other three ballerinas near the corner, differences faces of anger and fear. “Just because you can’t be half as good as her doesn’t mean you’ve to bring her down!”

“Yeah!” Hermione turned around, her arm protective around Pansy’s waist as she pressed against Blaise’s back, pointing at her. “You’re jealous that Pansy is just as good as her mother!”

“She’s right!” one of the ballerinas called out in accented English, the rest of the Hogwarts group stepping inside.

“You know _nothing_ , little girl!” Madame Ivett snarled at her and Harry saw her like a caged animal, glancing at the door, surely expecting any other adult to come in. But Harry was sick of the mistreatment of people his age, angrily moving to Pansy, whose knees were shaking.

“Are you alright?” he asked her quietly and Pansy nodded, swallowing hard, her makeup running down her cheeks. Harry panicked for a moment before quickly reaching into his pocket, pulling out the handkerchief Elías had given him. Pansy accepted it with a quiet _thank you_.

“She does not have a place in ballet!” Madame Ivett told them all, glaring at Pansy. “Constantly breaking the rules, disobeying, wearing whatever she wants and dancing whatever she wants! Ballet is not for _you_ , Pansy Parkinson!” she pointed a bony finger at her. “I take ballet as the _highest_ form of art and you just smear your dirty hands like a spoiled _brat_ because you think you’re better than the artists who made –”

“You know what?” Pansy threw back, interrupting her as Mrs Parkinson reached the doorway, stunned, her delicate face twisted into a hurt expression as Pansy’s eyes found hers. Harry and Hermione took a step back as Pansy approached Madame Ivett, leaning down to take off her shoes.“I _am_ better than the stupid rules an old, white guy made two hundred years ago. I _am_ better than _your_ rule that I could never be Odette because I’m not pale as a ghost. I _am_ better than your stupid bloody rule about never smiling on stage. I _am_ better than your rule about eating less than one thousand stupid calories. And so is everyone else in this troupe! So here!”

The girl threw her ballet shoes at her, making Madame Ivett struggle to catch them, watching stunned as Pansy pulled out the pins from her hair and shoved the headpiece into her hands as well.

“I quit,” she said, shoulders dropping with what seemed like relief. “And not because of _you_. This isn’t just _you_ who is racist and an absolute misogynist – it’s the whole damn system.”

“ _Pansy_ ,” Mrs Parkinson breathed, stepping closer but Pansy shook her head and moved into the bathroom after grabbing her bag, slamming the door behind her, silence reigning in for a second.

“I quit, too,” one of the other ballerinas said, making Hermione turn to her with surprise as she gave Madame Ivett her shoes as well. “Either everyone dances or nobody dances.”

“Gabriella –”

“Me too,” another moved closer, glaring at her. “I like eating. I like _chocolate_. It doesn’t make me disgusting to want to eat. And Pansy deserved so much better than all the crumbs you gave her. You’re a racist old bad.”

“I quit,” the last one whispered, barely able to look at the woman in the eye and she just dropped her shoes before quickly following her friends. There was a beat, two, Harry’s breath held in his lungs as the door shut and everyone stayed silent.

Then Mrs Parkinson began to shout.

* * *

“That was rough.”

Pansy blinked, looking up at Harry, shoulders tensing up for a moment before they finally dropped, letting out a laugh.

“Yeah,” her voice broke and she cleared her throat, managing to smile as Harry sat on the grass beside her. “You could say that.”

They were in the Parkinson’s property, near a river, on the outskirts of Szeged. Harry had never been here but they’d been invited to dinner and everyone was… tense, to say the least. Inside the Opera House, which Harry now knew to be partially owned by Pansy’s father, she had had a huge fight with her parents. Harry had heard some of it – had heard that Pansy excused not saying anything with handling things herself, with doing things her way, with not wanting to disappoint them both that she didn’t enjoy ballet the way she enjoyed traditional dancing, didn’t want to be like her mother.

Now, with all of them gathered in the old house, Pansy had slipped away and Harry had worriedly followed her to the edge of the river, the sun starting to set over the horizon, turning the sky into a multicolored mantle.

“I know you said you don’t want to do it anymore,” Harry began slowly, watching the deep green grass, grabbing a handful and pulling each blade apart, feeling nervous for some reason. “But uh… all of us were – we loved how you danced. It was incredible.”

“Thank you,” Pansy rubbed her nose. There were still some pearls in her hair and Harry quickly looked away from her profile, feeling embarrassingly flustered for some reason. But he didn’t want to just walk away, he wanted to talk to her. What Blaise had said…

“You were very brave,” he whispered and Pansy gave a laugh.

“I still don’t feel brave,” she told him, pulling her knees closer to herself. “People like you, like Theo are brave. Theo faces his father like, every day. And you had to be with those awful people who happen to share your mother’s blood for _years_. My parents love me. My parents… they were angry that I didn’t tell them what was going on.”

“There was a lot going on,” Harry agreed and Pansy groaned.

“I don’t want my mother to always pull me out of hot water,” she told him, frowning deeply. “Everyone respects my mother. She’s great, she’s super professional, everyone _loves_ her. I get it. But I don’t want to be Kiera Parkinson’s daughter, you know? I want to be _me_. I want –” she made a frustrated noise. “I want to push the rules, Harry! I want to explore and discover new things! I want to know everything there is to know about – about everything! I don’t want to learn some dance and then repeat it a thousand times until people who have seen that dance a _million_ times decide that it’s good enough.”

Harry frowned, watching the sadness in her face.

“You don’t have to,” he told her quietly. “You… you don’t have to, Pansy.”

“I know I don’t,” Pansy whispered, swallowing. “Not anymore. And I feel… relieved and sad at the same time?”

“I know that feeling.”

Harry and Pansy looked up to see Draco, of all people, dropping next to Pansy with a huff, laying on his bad, his shoes in his hand and his feet dipping into the freezing water, which he didn’t seem to mind. Harry was starting to get used to Draco not minding freezing temperatures.

“You do?” Pansy asked, stunned.

“You do?” Harry parroted, blinking.

“I hate Quidditch,” Draco whispered and Harry nearly choked, eyes wide, but Pansy gave a small gasp.

“ _Draco_ ,” she reached over towards him, hand over his, making something churn uncomfortably in Harry’s stomach. He rubbed over it, confused since he hadn’t eaten much today. Was he hungry, then?

“I thought it was for me, and it really isn’t,” Draco wrinkled his nose. “I thought…”

“Yeah,” Pansy murmured, face twisting into an expression of understanding. “Is it –”

“You’re incredible,” Draco told her, turning to Pansy. “Every time I think you’ve done the most amazing thing, you still surprise me, Pans.”

“ _Draco_ ,” she sobbed, hands moving to cover her face.

“I’ve known you since we were in _diapers_ , Pansy,” Draco sat up, nodding over at Harry. “Even Potter can see that you’re the most talented girl _ever_. Madame Ivett was a racist arse.”

“I didn’t even like ballet that much! I don’t know why I’m so sad!” she sobbed and Harry wanted to comfort her but didn’t know how, reaching over to touch her shoulder, making Pansy turn to him.

“I guess you’ve been doing it for so long,” he said softly. “That is just sticks with you. And – and sometimes when bad things end… we also feel sad. And scared. Because it’s been happening for so long that –”

“—that you just expect it to come back,” Draco finished and Pansy rubbed at her eyes. “Do you wanna cry?”

“I’ve cried enough today,” she said, hands against her cheeks, taking deep breaths. “Merlin. Merlin, I really did that, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Draco grinned widely and Harry gave a small smile.

“Your mother was crying by the end,” he told Pansy, making her lower lip tremble. “She looked really proud.”

“Everyone is proud of you,” Draco added, knocking her shoulder with his and Pansy gave a wet laugh, looking at the rest of the group. They were all waiting there, watching them, and when Pansy glanced over, they all waved their hands enthusiastically. Pansy sniffled, rubbing her nose hard before Harry stood, offering a hand to her.

“Theo is gonna show us all the cool songs he learned,” he told her, smiling, trying to be inviting and push all the bad things behind them. “He said he had one for you.”

Pansy let out a small breath, watching Harry for a moment, rubbing at her wet eyes one last time before she reached over and took Harry’s hand, making his heart jump. He used his Quidditch strength to pull her up to her feet, nearly sending her crashing into him and Harry felt his cheeks burn as she used his chest to steady herself, Draco standing as well.

“Let’s go,” Draco urged, his hand moving to hers, squeezing.

The three moved through the backyard towards the rest of their friends, resting against the wooden fence surrounding the Parkinson gardens, next to all of their bikes laying on the grass. Hermione patted the spot beside her and Pansy let go of Draco’s hand to sit there, everyone giving her bright smiles.

“I’m _so_ hungry,” Ron whined as they all settled down, making Blaise sigh.

“So am I. I’d never biked that much in my entire life,” he laughed.

“It was worth it, though,” Greg grinned over at Theodore, who high-five’d him.

“Show us the songs!” Vince told Theo, then, who quickly reached into his bag to grab the Walkman, nodding. Harry leaned against the fence, arms crossed, eyes a little bit closed as the group all began to talk about music. He felt exhausted, the entire day catching up to him, and his knee bumped into Vince’s thigh as he shifted to get comfortable. Harry blinked, turning to Vince, about to apologize softly when he saw the boy looking out to the road, eyes wide.

“Vince?” Harry whispered, surprised.

“Is… is that a carriage?” he asked and Theo tensed up, jaw clicking shut, everyone’s voices going quiet before they all crowded against the fence, seeing an actually horse-pulled carriage.

“Bloody hell,” Theodore cursed, eyes wide. “That’s my father’s carriage –”

“ _Carriage_?” Harry asked, wondering why he didn’t just grab a broom or something.

“Yes! Fuck! He knows I’m here!” Theo hissed, panicked eyes moving to his friends, swallowing. “I… I very probably will see you guys in September.”

“What?!” Hermione gasped.

“That’s _bullshit_ ,” Harry said bitterly, glaring at the carriage that stopped by the house, Snape walking out of the front door.

“It was nice, though,” Theo murmured, taking a deep breath before sighing long and defeated. He stood, brushing the grass off his knees. “Being here, seeing Pansy’s most punk move.”

“It was nice to have you here,” Pansy said quietly before she stood, giving Theodore a big hug, rubbing his back. “Take care, alright?”

“This blows,” Draco mumbled as everyone slowly gave Theo a hug and, when it was Harry’s turn, he made it extra tight, his eyes shut.

“Please, take care,” he whispered to Theo, pulling back with wide eyes.

Theodore gave him a grin, one that he was probably forcing. “You bet!”

The eight of the watched Theodore starting to walk towards the house, through the back of it and finally out the front door, where his father immediately grabbed him by the arm and shoved him towards the carriage, making Harry’s blood boil. He could see Snape there, arms crossed, looking angry but Mr Nott was angrier, his shouting almost making it all the way to the further part of the backyard.

“He shouldn’t have to go back,” Hermione whispered.

“Our parents have done all they can to stop it,” Vince told her sadly. “But Mr Nott is a Senator. It… it doesn’t go well.”

“So no one will do anything?” Ron asked, in disbelief.

“There’s nothing else we can _do_ ,” Blaise replied, frustrated, looking at the way Theodore tensed up while his father gestured wildly at the other adults. “Mr Nott is his father, his only _family_.”

Harry could see Elías there, as well, looking ready to punch Mr Nott and he was suddenly reminded of something he’d told Harry, before.

“– _It’s not bad, yeah? That – that there’s nothing you can do. There are some things that we can change while others will be stagnant. We can’t choose our blood family, we can’t choose our circumstances, we can’t choose our past. But we can change other things._ ”

“You can’t choose your blood family,” Harry told them all, making his friends turn to him as he stood, grabbed Elías’ old bike and threw it over the fence, climbing over it with fire in his green eyes. “But you _can_ choose your friends. And your friends can choose to help!”

“Harry, what are you _doing_?!” Hermione hissed but before she knew it, Draco was also throwing his bike over the fence and jumping to the other side. “Malfoy!”

Harry jumped into his bike, standing to put strength as he began to speed towards the carriage, at the head of the group as they all began to follow him. Theodore couldn’t go home, not _yet_. The sun hadn’t set. They hadn’t finished their summer adventure. They had to finish their _summer adventure_.

He saw Mr Nott turn to him, do a double take, eyes wide and mouth twisting to spit out a curse but Harry extended a hand passing right by him and screaming, “ _THEO, GRAB MY H –_ ”

Theodore immediately grasped his arm and Harry almost lost balance as his friend jumped on the axis stands, gripping Harry’s shoulders. The weight of the bicycle changed but Harry stood and pedaled away from Mr Nott, who was nearly ran over by Draco and Hermione, the others speeding by.

“WOOOOO!” Theodore shouted, looking back over his shoulder, seeing his father get smaller and smaller.

“RUN, POTTER!” Harry heard Draco.

“GO, GO, GO!” Pansy laughed, pedaling hard, Vince right behind her with wide eyes. "YES! YES, HARRY!"

“WHAT THE FUCK, POTTER?!” Blaise shouted over the roaring wind, their bikes speeding away, following the line of the river. “WE’RE GOING TO GET INTO SO MUCH TROUBLE!”

“SO WHAT?!” Harry screamed back, his lungs burning and Theodore’s hands like branding iron on his shoulders. “WE TAKE WHAT WE HAVE AND WE MAKE THE MOST OF IT!”

“YOU’RE MENTAL!” Greg laughed loudly, shaking his head, one of the only ones with a single bike. “YOU’VE GONE MENTAL, POTTER!”

“NO!” Harry replied, panting hard. “I STILL HAVEN’T HEARD THE SONG!”

Theodore’s breath washed over the back of Harry’s neck, the sun setting and the river glittering in orange before the boy began to sing – screaming, trying to catch his breath.

“ _I DROVE HOME IN THE HUNGARIAN DUSK_!” Theodore called, making everyone turn to him, following the dirt road in their colorful bikes, the Parkinson house a mere speck in the distance now. “ _I COULD FEEL THE ALCOHOL INSIDE OF ME HUM! PICTURED THE LOOK ON MY SHIT FATHER’S FACE! READY FOR BAD THINGS TO COME!_ ”

Harry’s bike hit a bump and he nearly crashed them into a tree but he pushed himself further, sitting down, using the momentum as they reached a downwards ramp, gaining speed, the sun in his eyes almost blinding.

“ _I DOWNSHIFTED AS I PULLED INTO THE DRIVEWAY, THE MOTOR SCREAMING OUT, STUCK IN SECOND GEAR! THE SCENE ENDS BADLY, AS YOU CAN IMAGINE!_ ” Theo screamed out, at the top of his lungs, voice breaking. “ _IN A CAVALCADE OF ANGER AND FEAR!_ ”

A shadow passed over the sunset and Harry and his friends all reached the end of the ramp, flying into concrete from the dirt road and for a moment, he was reminded of Buckbeak’s flight over the lake, of standing in Elías’ car with the hood down the first time he saw the sea, of Pansy spinning in white as the brass overwhelmed the stage.

“ _THERE WILL BE FEASTING! AND DANCING! IN JERUUUSALEM NEXT YEAR!_ ” Theo shouted, his hands tight on Harry’s shoulders, and Harry believed it, swallowing hard.

No matter what happened after this, no matter how many adults they’d defy, Harry knew that next to his friends, he had nothing to fear.

“ _I AM GONNA MAKE IT THROUGH THIS YEAR IF IT KILLS ME!_ ”


	14. Adapting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I haven't had much free time and, the time I've had, has been used to make myself happy. I'll update whenever I can and I'm sorry that the updates are much, much less than when I first began these series. But this is for me, not for anyone else. So you guys will just have to deal, I suppose.
> 
> Trigger Warnings for this chapter:  
> \- Aftermath of child abuse/Mild PTSD from Harry  
> \- Anxiety  
> \- Child abuse

Harry wasn’t… _scared_ of Elías. He really was not. So far, the professor had been nothing but kind to him and at the beginning he’d been a bit wary, a bit distrusting of what his intentions might be. By now, they were a month into his adoption and Harry and Elías had been able to work with each other and come to an agreement on certain things – speak up when uncomfortable, have rules easily displayed so Harry wouldn’t misunderstand them and get anxious about them, tell Elías if he was having any problem and so on.

Tonight, though –

Tonight Harry had deliberately done something that he knew would get him and everyone else in trouble. He had taken Theo away from his father, ridden off with the rest of his friends for hours until deep into the night, and when they’d finally been found, it’d been by Corban, who had looked way too serious for what everyone else was used to.

Usually Harry wouldn’t care about it, about the consequences he could face, but Elías looked…

“ _Harry!_ ”

The boy winced, body tensing as Elías rushed to hug him tight, making him blink rapidly. He thought he’d have his ear pulled, like Mrs Weasley did to Ron or Mrs Zabini to Blaise. But when Elías pulled back, hands on his shoulders, Harry saw nothing but worry in his eyes.

“What were you thinking?!” he asked, searching Harry’s green and shame began to slowly sink into his stomach. “It’s so late, it’s almost one in the morning! It gets so cold in here, we’re not even in England, you don’t _know_ where you’re going! What if someone had seen you kids and decided to hurt you?! We wouldn’t have known!”

“M’sorry,” he rasped, actually feeling guilty for the first time for a misdeed, looking around the adults to see them all scolding his friends, Mr Malfoy gently shaking his son’s arm as Mrs Malfoy brushed some dirt from his nose. Harry slowly turned to look at Elías, at the exhaustion in his eyes, the way his shoulders slumped. “I just…”

“We’ll talk at home,” he told Harry, serious, standing up full height and Harry’s stomach swooped as he thought of being punished. Anxiety immediately rose over him and he saw Snape approach like a viper ready to strike – at the very least, he didn’t look _smug_. If he had, Harry would’ve lost his marbles, surely.

“Is he injured?” he asked Elías, ignoring Harry completely.

“No, he’s fine,” Elías sighed, rubbing over his mouth, his hand still on Harry’s shoulder, not tight – just there, a presence. “We’ll get home and rest. He hasn’t eaten, so I’ll call for dinner and we can talk.”

“Hm,” Snape simply said, glancing at Harry and the boy quickly looked down at the floor, at Snape’s ugly shoes, trying not to be spoken to. He might lose it. “And are you alright?”

Harry looked up, startled, thinking for a second that Snape was talking to him but he quickly realized that he was speaking to Elías. The boy frowned, watching his guardian as he sighed and nodded, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’m better now,” he told the other professor and Harry shifted his weight, swallowing. Had something happened? Did Elías get hurt? Did Harry trigger his anxiety or something – oh _no_ , he _had_ for _sure_.

“I’ll accompany you both, just in case,” Snape said and Harry wanted to recoil and demand he didn’t immediately, hackles rising because if there was someone Harry didn’t want to see while getting scolded, it was _Snape_.

“I don’t think –” Elías began but Snape moved closer, whispering.

“If you pass out, the boy won’t know what to do,” he told Elías and Harry inserted himself into the conversation, now worried.

“Is everything alright? Elías?” he asked, anxious. He didn’t want to bother the man, not at all, not after what he’d done but if there was something going on with him, he needed to _know_.

“Just dizzy, Harry, is all,” Elías replied softly, brushing his bangs out of his eyes, sighing deeply. “I… alright. Alright, Sev, you may come. But as soon as I feel better –”

“Indeed. I understand,” the potioneer nodded, stepping back, looking around as Mr Goyle and Greg disappeared through the chimney. Harry caught Greg’s wave as he was off and he thought of how he’d been so nice to Hermione today, helping her get the mud off her shoes on the stream. Things had changed and Harry didn’t know how to settle onto this new scenario presented to him.

It felt like an out-of-body experience, saying goodbye to his friends and walking through the chimney into El Rompido. It felt utterly disorienting when he walking towards the back of the couch, turned around and saw Elías’ steps faltering, hand shooting out to grip the edge of the dinner table. Harry blinked, just for a second, thinking that maybe he saw Elías’ eyes turn white but when he focused his own gaze again, Elías’ eyes were the usual blue.

“Elías!” Snape quickly moved to grab his arm but Elías shook his head, hand against Snape’s chest to appease him.

“M’alright,” he rasped, breathing hard, making Harry feel worse and worse about the situation. He hadn’t known that Elías was feeling bad, he didn’t – he didn’t _mean_ to make it worse, Elías was surely tired and sick and Harry had been so selfish –

“You must rest,” Snape said, no room for discussion.

“Harry hasn’t –”

“I’ll take care of the boy,” Snape grunted and Harry felt his stomach drop to his feet. Elías looked at Harry, then at Snape, then back at Harry.

“Are you okay with that, Harry?” he asked, as if there was an option where Harry sent Snape to hell and had Elías still awake, still standing, despite very obviously being half-gone. Harry felt the pressure on him, then, to make the right call. At least for once.

“Yes, you go rest,” he said, despite that fact that he hated Snape and hated the thought of spending time alone with him. Elías didn’t deserve to not take care of himself, though, so he moved towards his guardian and wrapped his arms around his elbow, helping him stand. “I’m – I’m sorry, I’ll help you –”

“No, no, Harry, _Gods_ , I – I’m not… mad at you,” Elías sighed, rubbing his forehead and the relief Harry felt was immense, making the backs of his eyes burn, and burn hard. “I just want to – I was _worried_ , kid, okay? We’ll… we’ll talk tomorrow about it.”

“Alright,” Harry murmured, stepping back as he saw Snape grip Elías under the knees and just - pick him up. The boy blinked, surprised by the strength despite the many times that he’d heard this had happened, and watched as Elías grumbled something at the potioneer, which Snape ignored and just walked further into the house to get Elías to his bed.

Harry stood there for a moment, saying nothing and doing nothing. He felt like no matter what he tried to do, he’d get in trouble for it and it was a familiar instinct by now to just stand and do _nothing_. He didn’t want to be yelled at, shaken until his head hurt or… or hit. He didn’t think Snape would dare, he _hoped_ Snape wouldn’t dare but… one never knew.

Fifteen minutes felt like an excruciating hour but, finally, Snape descended the stairs, free of Elías, glancing at Harry and walking past him and into the little nook that was the kitchen, taking off his overtunic, placing it over a stool.

“Sit down,” he ordered and Harry, in any other situation, would’ve purposefully stood just to spite him.

Today, thought –

Harry sat on the stool not occupied by Snape’s tunic, orderly and quiet, looking down at his own hands over the countertop. He had mud under the nails, a perfect distraction, and as he began to scrape underneath, he heard Snape begin to work around the kitchen. He’d seen the professor many other times here but usually with Elías, with music playing, with Harry’s guardian making him seem more like a grumpy owl than the intimidating, overly tall presence that Snape actually was. Harry began to think of all the times this summer that he’d done things to spite Snape and sank his head lower and lower, shoulders rising, anxiety making his hands shake.

“Water?”

Harry blinked, blood roaring in his ears, looking fearfully at the Slytherin with his eyes near full of tears and Snape’s expression changed, although Harry didn’t know into what exactly. He felt the spike of fear, though, trying immediately to reign in his emotions before he could be called a crybaby, an annoyance, or any of the things the Dursley’s had loved to call him.

“I-I…” he croaked, voice breaking and he tried to desperately swallow.

Snape sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose before he set his wand aside, over the counter, next to Harry. The boy watched it, swallowing past the knot stuck in his throat, wondering why the professor was doing it when he saw Snape roll up his sleeves, a deep black tattoo shimmering on his left arm.

“Alright, Potter,” Snape set his hands on the table, watching him through narrowed eyes. “I am not here to _scold_ you, to _teach_ you. I am here as Elías’ friend and if you do not want me to speak to you, then I won’t.”

“What?” Harry rasped, beyond confused, heart beating so fast that he thought it could exit his body. He watched Snape, stunned on the spot, wondering if the man was… telling him that he would respect his boundaries.

“Do you want this to be a silent exchange?” Snape asked, looking annoyed.

“I –” Harry stuttered, not know what to say. Would he be angry if he said yes? Did Harry even want him to be silent? Would it be worse, to sit in the quiet, his mind making false statements out of thin air? “I… want you to be – be _honest_ ,” he finally said, just to get it over with, hands shaking so bad that he quickly shoved them between his knees.

“I only use honesty,” Snape replied, rolling his eyes as he stood straight. “Is this what you truly want, Potter?”

“Yes,” Harry said, even though he was sure that Snape was a liar and what Harry wanted didn’t actually matter to the man. Snape simply turned and plopped some butter on a pan, pulling ingredients out, apparently very aware of where everything was in the kitchen. This fact annoyed Harry. “You’re going to say it, a-anyway.”

“I was not.”

“Were too.”

“ _Potter_.”

Harry found reassurance and satisfaction in this, their usual state. If things weren’t different, then Harry could predict them. If Snape acted as he usually did, then Harry knew what he’d say, what he’d do, and that was better than standing in the dark. Even if Snape was an asshole, at least that was better than… whatever this was.

“Just say what you want to say,” Harry finally said through gritted teeth, almost provoking him at that point.

“Alright! Alright, Potter, you want my opinion?” Snape threw his hands up, scoffing, taking the chicken breasts that Elías had picked from the grocery store two days ago, setting them on the pan over low fire and starting to throw in spices.

“Yes,” Harry nodded, ready to be torn to shreds by Snape. And ready to refute it with anger – he’d rather feel angry, he’d rather take it all out on Snape.

He wanted it.

Harry wanted Snape to piss him off, to give Harry can excuse to lash out about Madame Ivett, about Mr Nott, about the Dursley’s and Sirius’ unfair treatment and Remus’ condition and Elías’ trembling hands and everything that was wrong in this world. He was ready to throw back nasty words and spew out vile in the worst ways. He shook with the need to let it all out.

“I think you’re an irresponsible fool,” Snape began, eyes hard as he turned to Harry, making his hackles rise, toes curling with adrenaline. “I think you’re arrogant and selfish. I think you _think_ you know better than anyone else, that everyone is a bumbling idiot who doesn’t listen to you and your friends.”

Harry’s hands turned to fists, glaring at Snape, the potioneer still going.

“I think you’ve gotten so used to incompetence from the adults around you that you _expect it_ from absolutely everyone save a few selected people whom you’ve deemed _good_ ,” Snape sneered at him. “I think you’ve assumed the role of hero from having everyone praise you since you entered the Wizarding World. _Oh, look at him, he’s The Boy Who Lived_!”

“I don’t think I’m better than anyone,” Harry spit out, shaking with anger.

“You think you’re a born leader,” Snape retorted, hand shooting out to grab the edge of the counter, glaring at Harry. “You think you were put on this Earth to lead those around you, and that is why the Sorting Hat put you in Gryffindor –”

“I do not _think_ that!” Harry burst, standing, and Snape looked at him with a cocked eyebrow.

“Did you ask your other friends before you chose to grab Theodore?”

Harry froze, staring at Snape, his fury absolutely vanishing and his world dropping to his feet. He… no, but Snape couldn’t be right. He _couldn’t be_.

“I…” he tried but Snape doubled down.

“Did you think of the consequences for Theodore? Or for the rest of his summer? For everyone else, as well? Did you ponder the fact that Senator Nott now knows that you are among the rest of your Slytherin friends? That word might go around about you being with the Malfoy’s, the Zabini’s, the Parkinson’s?”

“N… no…” Harry slowly sat back down, swallowing.

“You made a split second decision and decided to involve everyone else on it,” Snape told him, glaring deeply at him. “That was _selfish_ , Potter.”

“I wanted to help Theo,” Harry felt his voice break as tears began to climb up his throat. “I – he was going to be punished, we hadn’t –”

“There is _nothing you can do_ ,” Snape told him harshly and Harry tried to scrub the tears from his face, under his glasses, a traitorous sob escaping him. “Potter – by Merlin, _Potter_. Look at me.”

Harry shook his head. He hated Snape, he _hated Snape_. He didn’t understand how someone so cruel and so unfeeling could be here, in a household full of love, full of homecooked meals and music and laughter. He didn’t deserve to be here.

“ _Hari_.”

Harry stopped, some part of him – some lost memory making itself known and he looked up, stunned, not understanding why his heart rate had slowed and some comforting, safe feeling had taken hold of his lungs. Snape’s dark eyes watched him, looking no longer angry, just… just sad, for some reason. Harry stared.

“There is nothing you can do about Theodore’s situation,” Snape told him slowly, making Harry nod, sobbing once, twice, then stopping with a hiccup. “And the reason is that even _we_ , adults, cannot do anything about it, either.”

“Theo’s father is t-the _worst_ ,” Harry told him.

“We unfortunately know,” Snape pursed his lips, dropping his head for a moment, looking defeat and Harry watched him rub his face with his hands, looking… tired. As tired as Harry felt. It was strangely human of him to do so. “You cannot make split second decisions, Potter, do you hear me?”

“They’ve saved my life a lot of times,” Harry countered.

“In life and death situations, yes, they’re understandable,” Snape groaned, standing straight, pulling his hair back into a small, little ponytail against the back of his neck. “But not in _delicately balanced_ situations, such as Theodore’s home life.”

“You’re Slytherins,” Harry said, whining. “Can’t you get rid of Mr Nott?”

“No,” Snape watched him with a deadpan look. “No, we cannot.”

“Then what do we do, then?!” Harry burst out. “Nothing?! So we just stand there while Mr Nott does Merlin-knows-what to Theodore?!”

“No,” Snape repeated, turning to Harry’s dinner on the pan, turning the fire a bit higher. “What you’ve been doing is exactly what you should’ve done this evening.”

“Nothing?” Harry scoffed.

“Supporting him,” Snape snapped at him, making Harry’s jaw click shut. “Telling him that he has friends, when the time to leave comes. Letting him know what is right and what is not when Senator Nott instills violent and abusive behavior into that child. Being a support system and an anchor when he feels lost at sea – am I making myself clear enough, now?”

Harry crossed his arms over the counter and dropped his chin on top, sighing deeply, annoyed that Snape made sense, watching the back of his Potions Professor with half-closed eyes. He just felt tired. He thought being angry would make him feel less guilty but no chance.

“So what?” Harry called. “I should just… be kind?”

“In a world shaped by selfishness and meaninglessness, being kind is an act of rebellion,” Snape told him quietly and Harry’s snarky retort got lost in his tongue at that, surprised that Snape, of all people, was telling him this.

Harry watched him, the tense line of his back, and thought for a moment about his words. About Elías, and the way he’d defied Dumbledore, defied the Wizarding World, defied Sirius at the Shrieking Shack and defied… everyone by becoming friends with all those Slytherin families. All those pureblood families that had once done such terrible things. Elías had once told him that regret was the only thing that made apologies mean something.

“Then why aren’t you kind?” Harry finally asked, no anger left in his voice, just exhaustion.

Snape tensed visibly, almost dropping the spatula in his hand on the pan but he quickly gripped it back and gave a deep sigh. Lifting the pan, he slid the nicely seasoned chicken – which Harry now could see had some cuts on top, stuffed with what seemed like cheese and something green – and served it onto a plate, sliding it through the counter towards Harry. Taking out fork and knife, a napkin and a glass of water, Snape took the third stool and sat down, looking at Harry with his lips curled down.

“I’m _trying_ ,” he finally said, making Harry blink as he took the cutlery.

“Are you?” the boy asked dryly.

“It is _harder than it looks_ ,” Snape told him, reading for one of the wine glasses drying on the rack, easily opening the fridge and serving himself a glass of white wine.

“You –” Harry frowned, cutting a slice of his chicken and popping it into his mouth, hating that it tasted so good. “Why?”

“Why what?” Snape sighed.

“Why is it hard?” Harry challenged, watching the professor as he rolled his eyes.

“You’re not the only one with a tragic childhood home, Potter,” he told him, taking a healthy sip before nodding at him. “Eat. Elías told me to take care of you and make sure that you’re well fed.”

Harry complied, begrudgingly, wondering what kind of tragic childhood home Snape had had. It didn’t matter to Harry – being a shite person wasn’t an outcome of people being shite to you. Sirius’ family had been awful and he was a good person. The same with Theo and even with Harry himself. He wasn’t like Snape.

“You don’t yell at Neville as much as you did before,” Harry pointed out slowly and Snape’s eyes slowly closed, pressing the glass against his temple.

“Hm,” was all he said.

“Was it Elías?” Harry pressed, already knowing the answer.

“Part of it,” Snape sighed, eyes fluttering open to stare at Harry. “I’ve got more friends than Elías, I’ll let you know.”

“I know,” Harry replied, taking another big bite and letting the surprisingly comfortable silence take over, pondering over the evidence being given lately about one of the people he hated the most in this world. “You don’t deserve Elías,” Harry told him, matter-of-factly, seeing Snape’s eyebrow twitch.

“I am aware, Potter,” Snape told him, lips pursed. Harry had struck a nerve.

“I think he’s far too nice to you,” he continued.

“I think he’s far too nice to everyone,” Snape replied, taking another hearty sip, confusing Harry with that response. “He forgives easily. _Too easily_. I want to shake his shoulders, sometimes.”

“Sirius says that Elías is an idealist,” Harry scrunched up his nose. “Hermione tried to explain it to me but she kept using words that I didn’t understand –”

“Elías is not an idealist,” Snape told him, cutting through it and Harry paused, watching Snape as his eyes stuck on the wall, deciphering the mosaic tile. “Perhaps to the students, he is. He can be optimistic to a fault, yes, but he is far from an idealist.”

“What makes you say that?” Harry asked as he got halfway through his dinner. It really was good, but Harry would never admit that he enjoyed Snape’s cooking out loud. Perhaps he was prideful.

“I know him,” Snape shrugged and Harry didn’t know why that didn’t annoy him more, like before this whole… strange conversation. The fact that Snape knew Elías on a level similar to Remus or Sirius bothered him but now, it just felt like… something that just was. And he didn’t like it, he didn’t _want_ to get used to Snape at all.

“I don’t like that,” Harry said before he could keep it in and Snape gave a laugh – sharp and in once breath, startling Harry a little. He looked thoroughly tickled and it was almost disturbing, the smirk he gave Harry. It was usually smug but now it was just – just amused.

“A lot of people do not like that Elías and I are friends,” Snape told him, chuckling, shaking his head. “Oh, _Potter_. You and Black are so similar.”

Harry felt a swell of pride in him, thinking of Sirius, his Godfather, glad that Snape was reminded of him when Harry spoke. “Are we?” he asked, eyes wide.

“You have Elías on a pedestal,” he pointed out, cocking an eyebrow, making Harry frown. “He is not infallible. He is not perfect. He may be a good person who took you in when you needed someone but if you do not acknowledge that he is not a perfect man, then you will become deeply disappointed in the future.”

“Do you talk from experience?” Harry asked, huffing, finishing his dinner and taking his cool glass of water. The heat was getting to him a bit, making his bangs stick to his forehead, a bit itchy.

“No,” Snape snorted. “I knew him since he was eleven, Potter. I taught him. I knew his shortcoming and his flaws before he even knew them himself.”

“Did you also yell at him?” Harry asked, his own eyebrows shooting up.

“Yes,” Snape told him, looking honest and Harry frowned. “In fact, I yelled so much at him that he gave up on Potions.”

“But Elías loves Potions,” Harry whispered.

“He does,” Snape finished his wine and did not refill it, making Harry’s shoulders slump a little with relief, watching him place the cork back on and stand to clean the glass without magic. “This is why I have stopped… being so hard on students like you.”

“You mean not-Slytherins,” Harry grunted and Snape smirked.

“Hm,” was all he said before putting the glass to dry on the rack, upside down, turning and crossing his arms. For a moment, Harry thought that the snake and skull were moving but when he focused on it, he found the tattoo still. “Did you get the answer you needed?”

“Needed?” Harry frowned before he suddenly realized –

He was no longer shaking.

Harry looked down at his hands, utterly stunned to realize that there was no lingering anxiety, no lingering suffocation of emotions in his chest. He didn’t remember why he’d thought that Elías would yell and shake him, when Elías had been firm about communication. And he didn’t feel so… awful anymore. He frowned, looking up at Snape, whose smirk was gone but a strange look in his eyes still shook Harry to the core.

“Will you sleep tonight in peace?” he asked, making Harry swallow.

“I don’t know,” he confessed. “But… I think I might, now.”

“Good,” Snape rolled down his sleeves and walked by the stool, taking his overtunic, humming as he gestured towards the hallway. “Shower. Now. And after that, brush your teeth and to bed, Potter. Tomorrow you’ve a lot of reflection to do.”

Harry immediately swallowed the _yes, sir_ that almost left him and, instead, he nodded and walked towards the bathroom he shared with Elías, full of his own shampoo, his toothbrush, his soap, his things. He disliked that he felt comfort, instead of anxiety, despite how much it messed with his sleep because it had been _Snape_ who had calmed him down.

Swiftly. Quickly. Undercover. Harry hadn’t even known that the bastard had been trying to make him relax until it had already happened.

Taking a shower felt like rinsing the mistakes of this day, all the heaviness of the Hungarian Opera House, the sweat of the Kent countryside, the mud from Szeged’s dirt roads. Theodore’s face as he finally left with Mr Nott. Blaise’s anger. Greg’s little wave goodbye.

He came out of it feeling refreshed and at ease with what happened, what he’d done, wearing those comfortable, cool shorts and an oversized shirt as pajamas, looking up at Snape when he walked towards his bedroom door. The potioneer stood there, vigilant, looking to the other side of the patio to Elías’ door with a frown.

“Is he alright?” Harry asked him quietly and Snape turned to him, nodding curtly. “I’ve never seen…”

“He’d had worse,” Snape assured him, but it didn’t make Harry feel any better. “He will go through a Sight in his sleep and wake up in the morning perhaps a bit late.”

“Alright,” Harry said quietly, rubbing his nose, still watching Snape, for some reason thinking he’d say something else and Snape stared back at him, blinking. Then –

“I’ll call Lupin,” he sighed and Harry let out a noise of relief, nodding. “So he comes in the morning, in case Elías doesn’t wake up before twelve. He will make sure you’re taken care of and Elías is alright, medically.”

Harry would’ve said a thank you if it was anyone but Snape, instead nodding.

“Did you brush your teeth?” Snape asked him and Harry scrunched up his nose.

“You’re not my professor here,” he replied and Snape pointed at the bathroom, glaring, unimpressed.

“ _Teeth_ , Potter.”

“ _Fine_.”

Harry brushed his teeth begrudgingly in the bathroom, sighing as he finished and went back to his doorway, where Snape was still waiting.

“There. Brushed them,” he rolled his eyes.

“Bed, Potter.”

“I’m _going_.”

Harry stepped into his bedroom, taking off his glasses and setting them on top of his nightstand, where the picture of his grandparents and father sat. Snape watched from the doorway, arms still crossed, the light of the hallway behind him and the lack of glasses over Harry’s eyes making it impossible to see his face. The boy slid into bed, comfortable and happy about the cooling enchantment on his bedroom.

Once he was tucked inside, Snape gave a nod, reaching for the door and Harry, inexplicably, had the urge to say it now. To say a _thank you_ , despite hating Snape with his entire being, despite knowing that the man was far, far from a good one, despite still dreading the beginning of Potions in Fourth Year.

So he just –

“You helped me,” he spoke up, making Snape pause, door almost shut. He said nothing, but he stood there, listening. Harry knew he was listening. “You helped me, tonight.”

A second passed, a minute, five minutes. Harry thought for a moment that maybe Snape had left, leaving the light on and the door not fully shut but, just as Harry was about to close his eyes, he heard him speak.

“Think nothing of it.”

And then the door closed

* * *

Elías awoke the next day but much, much later than the morning.

In fact, Saturday evening had Harry working on his Charms homework on the floor of the living room, elbows against the worn wood of the coffee table, Remus explaining the intricacies of enchantments and why they worked differently than any other spell. The two of them looked up as Elías stumbled into the living room, making Harry’s stomach unwind at the sight because Elías, despite looking tired, seemed… alright.

“Eli,” Remus breathed, quickly standing, rushing to the man who looked like he’d just woken up.

“What time is it?” he croaked, accent thicker than the usual, looking disoriented. “What… what day is it?”

“It’s Saturday,” Remus murmured, holding Elías’ arm as Harry watched from the floor, not wanting to disturb. “You’ve been asleep for over twelve hours but not more than twenty four.”

“Oh,” Elías mumbled, stumbling a little and Harry tensed, almost standing, but Remus quickly helped him. “I – did you guys eat? Are you alright? Where’s Sev –”

“Severus called me,” Remus assured, gently guiding Elías to sit on the couch, Harry looking for signs of harm anywhere on him. There seemed to be none. He was confused for sure, though.

“Okay – okay, alright,” Elías rubbed his face, trying to focus his eyes and they landed on Harry, breathing in sharply. “ _Christ_. For a moment –”

Harry stuttered, “W-what?”

“No, no, I – sorry,” Elías laughed, shaking his head, scrubbing his eyes. “I just had a Sight with your father in it.”

Harry’s world tilted for a moment and he knocked his knees on the coffee table, “What?! Tell – tell me –”

“It was just a simple one, Harry,” Elías said softly, hand reaching for his shoulder, squeezing weakly, giving him a small smile. “Just your father and Sirius in Godric’s Hollow, is all. It was… a long time, though. I spent like two whole days in that Sight. I just… it drained me a bit, I’m sorry.”

“Wait, wait,” Harry frowned. “So no – no future? No creepy thing? No Voldemort about to come back or something?”

“No, Harry,” Elías whispered, shaking his head. “My Sights… aren’t prophecies.”

“Then what are they?” Harry asked, confused, and Remus jumped in.

“Elías is tired, Harry, maybe we should let him –”

“I don’t know.”

Remus closed his eyes and sighed, shoulders slumping as Harry stared wide-eyed at Elías, “Eli…”

“He deserves to know the truth,” Elías told Remus, leaning back on the couch, shrugging as he turned back to Harry. “I don’t know, Harry. Nobody knows what my Sights are, least of all me. We’re trying to find out.”

“Then you’re not a seer?” Harry asked, incredulous.

“No,” Elías shook his head, making Harry look at Remus, then back at Elías.

Never in his life had an adult told him _I don’t know_. It was Earth-shattering, to hear Elías admit it so carelessly, shrug and confess that he had no idea about what was going on. Harry remembered what Snape had told him the night before, about how Harry put Elías in a pedestal and thought the world of him, how Elías would fall from grace and Harry would inevitably get angry at him for it but Harry didn’t feel like that was possible.

“You… don’t know,” Harry murmured, shoulders slumping.

“We’re trying to find out,” Elías explained, looking a bit more awake with each minute that passed, though there were still dark circles under his eyes. “Remus, Severus and I. Even Sirius, a little bit, before the whole fiasco happened.”

“So that’s why uh, Trelawney isn’t like you?” Harry questioned.

“We think so,” Remus leaned against the back of his couch, looking defeated. Harry resented a little that he hadn’t wanted to speak about Elías’ Sights to him. “It’s complicated. Not even I understand it, and Divination Magic is a very ancient branch. Almost as old as Elemental Magic, Harry.”

“Biggs said so,” Harry nodded, as it was one of the only things he remembered from History of Magic during his first year at Hogwarts.

“Lately, my abilities have been changing, too,” Elías said softly, sighing, looking down at his hands. “I’ve been fainting, yes, but the spells are now… much briefer. They’re short, and I spend some time with just… blurry shapes of what I see. I think my body is trying _not_ to faint when I have a Sight.”

“How many do you have, normally?” Harry asked, finally feeling like he was able to ask about it, leaning into the table but Remus stopped it quick.

“Later – _later_ , and I say this to the both of you,” the professor frowned, hand moving to touch Elías’ forehead. “You need to eat, Eli, and get fluids in you. And you, Harry, need to finish your homework. When the two of you are well again, you can talk about the Sights and what happened yesterday and all the important things that you want, alright?”

“Alright,” Harry sighed.

“Very well,” Elías stood, wobbling only a little before brushing some of Harry’s hair out of his face, making Harry close his eyes, relief shaking him a bit. It was a tender gesture, one that he didn’t expect after what happened on Friday.

“I’ll make you something to eat, come on,” Remus urged gently, standing as well and moving to the kitchen, the two of them speaking in low tones about how Elías felt physically. Harry took his muggle pen back in hand and tried to focus on his homework, feeling pretty distracted but mostly… at peace.

Elías and he would talk about yesterday evening and Harry knew that he wouldn’t be so heavily scolded as he’d been in the Dursley’s. Elías didn’t withhold food or his bed or blankets or other people from Harry. He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t make Harry feel as if everything in this world was his fault, simply for being born.

 _I won’t be disappointed that you’re not what I think you are_ , Elías had said.

Harry pushed his homework aside, standing, moving towards the kitchen where Elías sat tiredly as Remus filled a plate with the lunch leftovers. Harry had had a good day with Remus and everyday he felt closer to the werewolf, so he wasn’t afraid or ashamed to sit on Elías’ side, on the other stool, and immediately lean against the man, seeking comfort. Elías startled for a moment, jumping as Harry slumped into him but quickly, his arm came around Harry the same way Juan did it, rubbing his shoulder, Elías’ head gently falling on top of Harry’s.

“Distracted?” Elías asked with a sore laugh.

“I’ll finish it later,” Harry told him, and meant it.

“Just as long as you do,” Elías chuckled, holding him close as Remus pushed a plate in front of him, Harry giving Remus a small smile which he returned. “Are you alright?”

“Mhmm,” Harry nodded, eyes closing slowly, feeling the breeze of the upcoming sunset through the opened backdoor to the garden, sighing deeply. “I’m alright.”

Later, he’d be scolded. He’d be told what he’d done and he’d get grounded the way Ron was grounded, surely – no dessert, no hangouts for the rest of the weekend, maybe even go to his room and reflect what he’d done but he looked forward to that and not lack of food, lack of interaction, being locked up.

The fear that had presided over him since the beginning of the adoption process slowly deflated like a punctured balloon, making Harry relax deeper and deeper into Elías, his eyes on Remus as the two spoke, thinking of Snape’s misguided way of calming him down and Draco’s honesty in front of him. So many changes. So many new things to adapt to.

He could do it. Harry knew he could, now.


	15. The First Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that! An update before a second week hits! I'm getting better!
> 
> Trigger Warnings for this Chapter:  
> \- Mention of death

“Wait, what?” Harry blinked on Monday morning, looking up from his plate, watching Elías as he finished his coffee, standing next to the dining table.

“I said,” Elías repeated, eyebrows raising. “That after my meeting with Dumbledore and Severus, you and I are heading to the Puerto de Santa Maria and renting a catamaran. I’m going to show you the basics of sailing.”

“But – but am I not going to learn them on Tuesday?” Harry frowned, confused. “And wasn’t I grounded this week?”

“You were,” Elías admitted, nodding slowly. “But you know, we’ve talked and you’ve been working on your homework, you’ve helped around the house a lot, and you look like you genuinely regret what you did and understand why it was wrong, Harry. I’m not grounding you for formality and all that – I did it so you could have time for yourself and reflect on last Friday.”

Harry watched him, stunned, staring at Elías before he nodded slowly. “Alright.”

“You’re fine, kiddo,” Elías sighed, reaching up to ruffle his thick hair, smiling softly. “We’re gonna rent a catamaran, which isn’t a sailing boat but it has, you know, a sail and it’s much cheaper to rent, the beginner ones.”

“What’s a catamaran?” Harry asked curiously.

“A type of boat – speedier, much easier to not get seasick in, it’s – you’ll see it, I can’t process English so early,” Elías laughed, running a hand through his wild hair and Harry nodded, finishing his eggs quickly. “I’ll pick you up from my parents’ house after lunch, probably, sounds good?”

“Mhmm,” Harry nodded, setting his empty mug on the table before looking at Elías, seemingly gathering some courage. “Elías?”

“Yes?”

“What’s going on with the meeting today?” he asked and Elías paused, taking a deep breath, moving to lean his hip against the dining table. He grunted, rubbing the shadow of a stubble on his jaw, thinking.

“I don’t actually know if it’s alright to tell you this,” he began slowly, turning to Harry. “We don’t even know if it’s going to work. It’s nothing big, really, it’s just… Sirius gave Dumbledore and the Order something and we’re trying to put it in workable condition.”

“Oh,” Harry replied, looking surprised. “So it has nothing to do with Voldemort?”

“Nope,” Elías gave him a lopsided grin. “Just lots and lots of cobwebs and bugs. An absolute annoyance.”

“That sucks,” Harry provided, making Elías laugh. “So you’re cleaning this thing that Sirius gave you?”

“Mhmm,” he nodded.

“It’s his house, then,” Harry deduced, making Elías’ eyebrows shoot up. “He sent a letter to me, the other day? He mentioned that he gave Dumbledore his old house, the one he hates.”

“Yeah,” Elías whispered. “Grimmauld Place.”

“He says that house is awful,” Harry frowned.

“It’s _big_ ,” Elías snorted. “Full of cursed stuff. Severus and I walked into the library and then realized we were trapped in an ever-changing maze.”

“What?!” Harry gasped. “How did you make it out?!”

“We apparated outside,” Elías laughed. “I was freaking out, not going to lie about that one. Severus was beyond angry that we even attempted to go inside when there were already enchantments around the library that told us it was protected.”

“Huh,” the boy furrowed his brow, pushing his glasses up his nose. “And the rest of the house? What – what do you want it for?”

“Meetings, I suppose,” Elías shrugged, sighing. “You… know that things are happening, like, I – I can’t hide that. _You_ have faced off against unimaginable horrors already, in these three years that you’ve been in Hogwarts.”

“I’m glad at least you’re not pretending I know nothing,” Harry grumbled and Elías gave a little laugh.

“No, that’s not my style,” he admitted, smiling at Harry gently. “There’s stuff happening and we want to be ready, just in case. Dumbledore is calling the people who are left, who used to be in the Order of the Phoenix.”

“The Order of the Phoenix…” Harry whispered, eyes wide. “What – what’s that?”

“It was the organization that rebelled against Voldemort’s climb to power,” Elías explained, arms crossing. “Your parents were in it. Along with Sirius and Remus, of course.”

“Oh,” Harry’s shoulders dropped a bit. “So… all these people that knew my parents… they’re coming back?”

“Apparently so,” Elías shrugged. “We don’t know yet. There’s too much speculation, not enough solid evidence. It’s a preventative measure, above all, Harry. And that’s why I need you to _please_ , tell me, that if you and your friends see anything suspicious… _tell us_. Any of us, alright? If not me, then Remus or Sirius, okay?”

“What about Dumbledore?” asked the boy and Elías took in a deep breath.

“Him, too,” he admitted begrudgingly, eyes serious. “But if you tell Dumbledore, tell another adult, alright?”

Harry nodded and Elías relaxed.

“Some people will be mad at me for the fact that you now know this,” Elías told Harry, who frowned with indignation. “So… try and keep it on the down low, alright? It is a secret operation, after all. But you deserve to know, Harry. You’re in the middle of it.”

“Does this mean I can’t tell the others?” Harry sighed.

“Exactly,” Elías replied gently. “Sorry, Harry. But we need to make sure that this doesn’t get out. I understand that Ron and Hermione are your best friends but the less people know, the better. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir,” he nodded.

“Good,” Elías stood up straight, stretching, giving out a hand yawn. “Alright, then. Get up, get dressed, and let me get you to my parents’.”

* * *

The state of the Black house was much, much more different when Elías arrived the second time, knocking on the door and actually being answered by Remus.

“Oh!” Elías blinked, surprised before he grinned, hugging the werewolf real quick and then stepping inside, cleaning his boots of mud with a swipe of his wand. “Hey, Remus!”

“Hey,” he looked nervous, skittish, rubbing his palms against the front of his pants and Elías realized that there were _a lot_ of voices in the house, making him glance around. “I… people are answering the call for the Order today. There’s going to be an impromptu meeting in an hour.”

“No shit?” Elías’ eyes widened. “But the house isn’t secure –”

“Kitchen and drawing room and dining room are, though,” Remus sighed, whispering a bit. “I mean, I – that’s enough to host us. I didn’t think people would come but Dumbledore told me to and I arrived and… Emme is here.”

“Oh. Oh!” Elías sobered up, turning to him fully, worried. “And? How is it, how is she? Are you okay?”

“It was a bit like seeing a ghost,” Remus admitted, swallowing before he took a deep breath. “It… went well. A bit awkward. Her accent is thicker than it was before, though it’s understandable, she hasn’t been in England… for a good while.”

“Yeah,” Elías reached over, gently pulling on the collar of Remus’ shirt to straighten it, giving him an encouraging smile. “It’ll be alright. Rekindling old friendships take time, yeah? And you guys have been through a lot together. Everyone is seeing ghosts of the past today, too. It’s enough to overwhelm everyone.”

“I think the strangest part is – Severus, actually,” Remus whispered quietly to him, making Elías blink. “Having him _here_. As… a member of the Order.”

“Oh,” Elías mumbled awkwardly. “Has anyone been opposed?”

“Emme ran over his foot with her wheelchair.”

Elías’ eyes widened and he quickly threw a hand over his mouth in order not to laugh, making Remus giggle quietly, the two glancing at the closed kitchen door before quickly giggling again.

“He deserved that,” Elías admitted.

“He did,” Remus snickered, shaking his head. “Emme has an attitude. It’s great.”

“Where was she sorted?” Elías asked.

“Ravenclaw,” Remus explained.

“Wonderful,” he chuckled, looking around the entrance, realizing that the cobwebs were gone and the carpet wasn’t as dusty and disgusting as before. “Did you guys clean?”

“There’s been some work done,” Remus nodded, glancing at Elías with what looked like nervousness. “They uh… hired an architect for a lot of reconstruction over the weekend.”

Elías blinked, “ _What_. On the _secret cursed house_ –”

“It’s quite alright,” a voice called, making Elías turn, nearly dropping his jaw as he saw Narcissa on top of the stairs –

No, it… wasn’t Narcissa. She looked a _lot_ like Narcissa, though, with that wavy black mane of hair and the grey eyes and the mole on the apple of her cheek. Older, more worn, and as Elías realized who it was, she began to approach them, making a popping noise with her mouth and smiling.

“Andromeda Tonks,” she introduced herself, nodding and flinching before making another popping noise and a small raspberry. Elías nodded, a bit stunned still. “Forgive – ah, forgive the noises –”

“It’s alright,” Elías assured, hand extending to hers, shaking it, giving a small smile. “I’m more surprised at meeting you, Andromeda, than discovering you’ve Tourette’s.”

She seemed relieved, another tic appearing before she let out a deep breath, “That’s good to hear. It can be a bit annoying during meetings.”

“I work with children,” Elías assured, laughing. “That’s nothing compared to them.”

Andromeda laughed, making another popping noise followed by that same raspberry. It was easy to ignore, once you got used to it and Elías instead became fascinated with the fact that every single person in the Black family that he’d met so far was astoundingly – hauntingly, even – beautiful.

“Nymphadora helped me in the case with Harry,” Elías said softly, making Andromeda’s eyes soften. “Th – she was wonderful,” Elías stumbled, thinking that perhaps Tonks wasn’t out yet but Andromeda simply looked delighted.

“Yes! They told me about it, and about you and the child! They were quite happy that Harry was going into a loving home,” her hand reached over to pat Remus’ shoulder. “And it is also good to see such a friendly and familiar face, too, Remus.”

“It’s quite good to see you as well,” Remus said softly, his hand reaching for hers, squeezing. “I already said this, but you look good, Andromeda.”

“I _feel_ good,” she replied, followed by another tic and Remus gave a genuine, happy smile, making Elías relax deeply. “Teddy isn’t here but you should absolutely come for dinner sometime, Remus. It’d be good to catch up.”

“I would love that,” he confessed, looking a bit emotional, making Elías’ hand discreetly find the small of Remus’ back, rubbing there for support.

“And the same goes for you, Elías!” she told him, flinching once, twice, then grinning. “I’ve heard that you’ve worked to help my cousin and, well, since you’re Harry’s new guardian and Nymphadora’s friend, I’d love to have you as well!”

“Oh! I – I’d love to do that, actually,” Elías said, delighted, feeling Remus’ right hand slip into his, squeezing. Elías squeezed back. “I actually – yeah! Yeah, of course!”

“Good, that’s – let me think of a date…” she did a few tics, then paused and nodded. “Alright, how about this Sunday evening? A nice dinner at my home.”

“Sounds good to me. Remus?” Elías asked softly.

“Sunday is perfect,” he nodded, turning to Elías, pulling a bit on his hand. “You think Harry will be alright coming?”

“If you’re there, he’ll be fine,” Elías assured, nodding, making Remus’ face turn tender, eyes soft, Elías grinning. “You’re still surprised by that?”

“Not surprised, just… it’s nice,” he laughed, cheeks dusting red.

“Well, you should come with us this afternoon to el Puerto,” he suggested. “I’m teaching Harry the basics of sailing and I’m sure he’d love it if you were around.”

“Oh, _no_ , I’d be an _absolute burden_ ,” Remus quickly said and Elías laughed.

“Come on! It’s not hard!” he giggled.

“Nope. No. Another time, maybe!” Remus chuckled, making Elías roll his eyes.

“Very well,” he shook his head, turning to Andromeda only to see her grinning from ear to ear. “So ah… Sunday is good.”

“I didn’t _know_ Remus had a partner,” she said and Elías tensed, quickly pulling his hand away from Remus’, straightening up as the werewolf let in a sharp breath.

“No, no, no! We’re not…” Elías heard Remus grunt. “We’re not _together_ , Andromeda, we’re just good friends and I’m uh, very touchy-feely. Spaniard and all!”

“Oh?” she looked at Remus, eyebrows raising the same way Narcissa did, making Elías a bit dizzy. He wanted to talk to her about Narcissa, about Sirius, about _Regulus_ but Gods, they were all such delicate topics that Elías had no place in. “Alright.”

“I –” Remus looked absolutely embarrassed and Elías felt horrible, a sense of discomfort and guilt settling onto his stomach when the kitchen door opened, letting out all the loud noises from inside.

Elías peeked at it, moving to look behind Andromeda and, to his surprise, someone who very much looked like a Weasley walked out. Not tall but not short, bulky – heavily muscles, with a scar over his cheek and jaw. He had freckles _everywhere_ , blue eyes bright and, like every Weasley, a mane of red hair pulled back onto a single braid. He looked to be Elías’ age and he was absolutely _blistering hot_.

“Hey!” he grinned, marching over to the three of them. “Andromeda, mother was calling you? I think she found something on the basement –”

“Ah, right away!” Andromeda nodded, and the noise tics Elías hadn’t really noticed by the end of their conversation disappeared as she headed into the kitchen, closing the door behind her.

“You are… Elías, right?” the older Weasley pointed at him and he was only slightly taller than Elías, making him nod mutely, like a fucking idiot. “Yeah, my brother and Harry talk a lot about you. You adopted Harry.”

“I sure did,” Elías cleared his throat desperately when his voice broke, kicking himself mentally. This was _not_ fair. This was an absolute disaster, Remus was right there and Andromeda had said – Elías couldn’t deal with so many hot people at _once_.

“Well, thanks,” he crossed his bulky arms and Elías noticed that he had a big, shiny burn in one of them, making it all click.

“You’re Charlie!” he gasped, pointing at him, making the man laugh and nod. “You’re the second oldest, the one working with dragons! Oooh, it’s nice to meet you!” he laughed, shaking Charlie’s rough hand, feeling a bit more grounded, more relaxed.

“Nice to meet you, too, I should’ve started with that,” he grinned, nodding, his grip firm. “Just wanted to say thank you, mainly. Harry’s a good boy, he deserves to have a normal home life and someone who cares about him.”

“I do care,” Elías found himself saying, giving a small smile. “I really do.”

“Good,” he nodded, looking over at Remus and smiling. “How’s the full moon treating you, Remus?”

“Like shite,” he groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Today I’ve to start taking Wolfsbane and I am not looking forward to it.”

“Snape does those, right?” Charlie asked, frowning.

“Yes, but I’ve to take them at certain times. Can’t just take them willy nilly,” Remus replied, then gave him a little tense smile. “Had not seen you since you were just a child. You’ve grown a lot.”

“So they say,” he grinned widely, throwing his head back and laughing. Elías felt embarrassed, again, knees knocking together. “Why don’t you both come into the kitchen? There’s a lot we need to go over and it’s almost time.”

“How many people are here?” Elías asked.

“A few already,” Remus told him, moving over to open the kitchen door and immediately, Elías was greeted by what was left of the Order of the Phoenix.

Molly and Arthur were there, and Elías could recognize another red head that he hadn’t seen before, so it was probably Bill. A woman in a bright red tanktop and a wheelchair, who was probably Emme, and other people whom he didn’t recognize at all –

Well, recognize from having _met them_.

Because he _had_ seen a few of them in other sights. He’d seen them wiping blood from their eyes, fighting with every last ounce of their beings. Elías had seen them laughing in the Potter home, back in Godric’s Hollow, while the winter beat down on windows and they all raised a toast to the last year of war, not knowing that it would be in the worst way. He’d seen them with Frank and Alice Longbottom, with the Prewett twins, with Mary McDonald and so many others that were lost to battles stewn about England. It made Elías’ stomach churn, for a moment, but he quickly reigned it all in. Since Saturday afternoon, he felt like his Sights were nowhere near but he didn’t want to push his luck – better not to think of the past or future at all.

Dumbledore was there, the leader of the group, and he nodded at Elías, Charlie and Remus and they walked into the kitchen.

“I believe there is a lot of people in this room whom you haven’t met, Elías,” Dumbledore said and Elías gave a nod, arms crossing. “Everyone, this is Elías Fernández. He’s Harry Potter’s guardian.”

“Hello, everyone,” Elías greeted, making sure his accent was reigned in. He needed to be understood and if he slipped, he’d be thoroughly embarrassed. All these people had fought a war and they knew the ins and outs – Elías was a newcomer. He wanted to make a good first impression.

“You already know the Weasley’s,” Dumbledore gestured at the family, Charlie moving next to them, which prompted Molly to lick her thumb and try and rub something from his cheek, making Charlie sigh but begrudgingly put up with it. “Bill, their eldest and Charlie, their second eldest. The both of them have joined like you, as new members.”

“Nice to meet you,” Elías told them politely, both Bill and Charlie nodded.

“We also have Hestia Jones,” Dumbledore continued and Elías’ eyes fell on the white woman in her late forties with dark, curly hair and a tender smile. She was missing a finger, he noticed, when she reached over to shake his hand, Elías smiling back at her quickly. “Was in the original Order of the Phoenix. She served in the Battle of the White Lake.”

“You don’t need to say such formalities, Albus,” she said, cheeks darkening, making a few in the room chuckle. “Nice to meet you, Elías. I’ve heard very good things from you.”

“Thank… you,” Elías replied, confused, wondering who was saying what.

“I believe you’ve just met Andromeda Tonks,” Dumbledore proceeded, making him nod. “This is Dedalus Diggle.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of you!” Elías told the small, brown, older man with laughing lines on his face, shaking his hand happily. “You cause the shooting stars the Night of Victory in Kent!”

“That, I did,” he laughed, enthusiastically shaking Elías’ hand. “It’s good to meet you, boy.”

“Good to meet you as well, Minerva uses you as an example of what you really shouldn’t do in front of muggles,” Elías laughed, making him burst into hollers.

“Of course she does! She believe I’ve no sense – I believe she doesn’t have a sense of humor, eh?” he winked, making Elías laugh, pulling back as Dumbledore gestured at the next.

“And this is Emmeline Vance,” he told Elías, making him smile, standing straight as he shook her hand. “One of our best spies.”

“Your best spy,” she replied in a thick French accent, shaking Elías’ hand firmly, the best grip so far.

Emmeline was a woman of long, almost white hair and Elías was surprised to realize that she had albinism. Her eyes were pink, slightly crossed, eyelashes completely white behind a pair of seventies style glasses and her hair just as pale. Like porcelain skin, she was absolutely stunning, leaving Elías a little flabbergasted. He’d thought at first glance that she was simply pale with bleached hair.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Elías told her, smiling. “Remus mentioned you two were good friends.”

“Are,” she corrected, sending Remus a grin, which he returned. “So have I, about you. Though not always good.”

“Emme!” Molly squawked but Elías laughed loudly, feeling relief.

“Oh, I’m glad – I’d rather not have everyone claim I’m something I’m not,” he told her, making Emme smirk.

“Alright. I think I’ll get along with you, then,” she stated, hands moving back to rest on her lap. The red of her tanktop made everything in her pop. “Is anyone else coming?”

“Hagrid and Minerva are arriving in a few minutes,” Dumbledore stated, making Elías perk up. He’d missed Hagrid, he really should send more letters to him.

“And Nymphadora should get here soon, if they don’t run late,” Andromeda sighed, making a few chuckle.

“And Kingsley is not coming to this meeting, he has a meeting at the Ministry,” Emme spoke up, making Dumbledore nod.

“Kingsley?” Elías’ eyebrows shot up. “Kingsley Shacklebolt?”

“He’s with us,” Remus told him, one hand on his hip as he brushed his bangs out of his face. His hair was getting a bit long. “Our inside man in the Ministry of Magic. We have Arthur, of course, but Kingsley… he’s with the higher-ups.”

“Same as Alastor,” Andromeda hummed. “He’s in the Auror Office.”

Elías held back some disgust, thinking of the damn wizard cops. Any cop was a pig in his eyes and unless this Moody guy was just going undercover, then he very probably wouldn’t like the man.

“Meeting starts in fifteen minutes, then,” Dumbledore called, walking out of the kitchen and Elías turned to Remus, then, nudging him.

“Who’s Alastor?” Elías asked quietly.

“Alastor Moody,” he explained. “War veteran. He… did a lot of work with the aurors in the First Wizarding War. They betrayed him, almost got killed, and now he works in the Auror Office again just so he can fuck them over.”

“Res- _pect_ ,” Elías snorted, laughing a bit. “So he’s all against wizard cops?”

“Pretty much. He’s trying to weed out everything but it takes… a lot of time to get this to light. Dumbledore thought it’d be good to have him in the Order of the Phoenix. Not only does he have a lot of experience at war, but he can also be an inside on what’s happening with the coppers.”

“Poor guy,” Elías said. “Has to be hard, working in an office full of pigs.”

“Try an office full of soul-sucking politicians,” a voice called and Elías turned around to see a tall, thin, black man in work tunic, looking like every Ministry worker Elías had seen. He had a kind face, though, with expressive black eyes and a small smile on his lips.

“I’m sure it’s draining,” he laughed, extending a hand out. “Elías Fernández, Astronomy Professor at Hogwarts.”

“Kingsley Shacklebolt, Head of the International Magical Office of Law Division,” he introduced himself, laughing at Elías’ face. “Yes, yes, I believe not many would be happy with my position here.”

“Sirius comes to mind,” Andromeda pointed out, laughing before a tic cut her off.

“I quite agree with him, I’m afraid,” Elías told him.

“Understandable,” Kingsley nodded, making Elías relax a bit. “Some of us are trying to make changes the bureaucratic way.”

“And how’s that going, huh, King?” Emme asked, leaning back on her chair and smirking.

“Terribly so,” Kingsley winced. “Especially with Fudge in office. We have… quite a mess in our hands, as of now.”

“Well, best of luck,” Elías offered, not wanting to be in his place.

“Thank you, I suppose,” he replied, moving towards the table and taking a seat next to Arthur, the two of them engaging in conversation.

It took a while for everyone else to arrive and by the time Hagrid and Minerva stepped into the dining room – in Hagrid’s case, shimmied through the doorway – Elías had a seat at the far end of the table, on the right side, with a bust right behind him, perched on a pedestal. If Elías broke it, he had a feeling Sirius would be delighted.

To his right sat Severus and to his left Remus, Elías feeling at least a little more comfortable with people he knew deeply around. It didn’t feel real, when Dumbledore stood and began to thank everyone for coming. It felt like another staff meeting, like a gathering of friends instead of the first reunion of the Order of the Phoenix, and Elías could feel himself start to almost dissociate from it. He forced himself to pay attention, though, already knowing that this moment was important.

Severus hadn’t said a single word since he’d walked into the kitchen five minutes ago, simply standing there, tense and on guard, arms crossed and his eye twitching. Looking at him now, Elías could tell that he was relaxing but only because everyone’s attention was now on Dumbledore at the other end of the table, instead of glaring at him. Elías could sympathize but Elías also thought that Severus very much deserved it.

“Welcome everyone to the first Order of the Phoenix meeting,” Dumbledore spoke up, Elías’ eyes moving from Severus’ pursed lips to Albus’ tired smile. “Forgive me if it hurts when I say that I hoped never to have you all in a meeting again.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Emme spoke up, sighing. “We all were hoping it.”

“Indeed,” Dumbledore slowly stood, the chair’s legs making a soft scratching sound through the carpet as the Headmaster of Hogwarts sighed, hands gripping the corners of the dipper table, watching the people in the meeting with a severe look in his eyes. “I’m afraid that the rumors are right – Pettigrew is alive and Sirius Black is innocent.”

“ _God fucking damn it_ ,” Emme groaned, hands moving to cover her face while everyone looked all different sorts of guilty and horrified. Severus, Hagrid, Minerva, Remus and Elías simply sat there, already knowing this. “This is why we’re here, isn’t it?”

“Mr Black kindly offered us this home,” Dumbledore nodded and Emme dropped her head over her arms on the table, whining. “I’m very sorry, Emme. I know it hurt you –”

“Is he okay? Is he alive?” she asked, accent thickening much more, looking emotional. “I told him awful shit when he was arrested…”

“He’s in Luxembourg, last we spoke,” Dumbledore said and Remus and Elías quickly glanced at each other, surprised. “He is doing alright, despite the circumstances. A bit haggard, but always keeps an optimistic look, as we all know.”

Elías wanted to scream. He felt his hands tightening to fists, wanting to snap at Dumbledore that no, keeping up a happy façade while running all over Europe and away from International British Aurors was _not_ being optimistic.

“How did it happen? Did he come to you?” Kingsley questioned.

“Ah, I believe it’s time for Remus and Elías to speak up,” Dumbledore responded, giving him a smile before turning to the two professors. “They were the ones who helped Mr Black, after all.”

Everyone’s attention fell on them and Elías felt himself shrink, looking at Remus for support – yet the werewolf seemed just as uncomfortable. With a sigh, Elías pushed his own issues aside and stood, starting to retell everything from the beginning, omitting of course his Sights and some intimate conversations with Sirius. Nobody needed to know how the man felt about everything – just the necessary.

“So you’re telling me,” Bill began, frowning deeply. “That Pettigrew was the mole all along?”

“That _bastard_ ,” Dedalus breathed before spitting out a curse, Elías sitting down heavily and taking slow breaths. Remus sat a bit closer, bumping shoulders with him, leaning over to whisper _it’s alright, you did well_. It still didn’t help that the retelling had everyone in varying states of disarray

“We need to find him.”

It was Severus who spoke, making everyone fall quiet, Elías’ eyes finding Severus standing, meeting Dumbledore in the middle.

“We need to find Pettigrew. Only then will Black be free,” he repeated. “The moment he steps into England, the aurors will be on him. We need to find Pettigrew before we can think of helping Black.”

“You’d _love_ to watch him rot in prison, wouldn’t you?” Hestia snorted but Dumbledore raised a hand.

“Whatever past grievances any of you have with Severus, now is not the time,” he said slowly, making Hestia bite the inside of her cheer, surely trying to hold back something. “He is here as a member of the Order. He came to me before the war was over, did spy work for me. He is not an enemy.”

“I can smell the Dark Mark on him,” Hestia whispered and Severus dropped on his seat, looking both kinds of angry and ashamed, Elías just sitting there without knowing what to say. “But fine. Fine! He’s right – we need to find Pettigrew.”

“Last we saw him,” Remus began, speaking up for the first time. “Was with one of the Carrow twins.”

“Then he’s with Amycus, then,” Kingsley hummed, eyes narrowed. “Alecto is in Azkaban as of now, it can only be him. He’s in house arrest but it doesn’t surprise me that he has been breaking it. If we can prove he’s been outside, we can get him out of the way.”

Elías let out a loud breath of relief, a bit _too_ loud and Emme glanced his way. Elías ignored her, trying not to show how nervous he was about this whole thing.

“So what, we get Amycus arrested?” Dedalus frowned. “What next?”

“If Amycus is arrested, we lose our only lead,” Minerva quickly interrupted, shaking her head. “We need to get that information from him, somehow.”

Elías swallowed, glancing at Severus and finding him already watching him back. Elías gestured, something that was meant to ask _could you do something?_ And in return, Severus pursed his lips, hand rubbing over his mouth, sighing.

He could. But it’d be complicated.

“Hey,” Emme spoke up, making everyone fall quiet, turning to her. “Snape. What about you? Can’t you just ask him?”

“No,” Severus deadpanned, unimpressed. “He hates me as much as I hate him.”

“Is that so?” Emme looked cruelly amused. “Do you not get along with your little Deatheater friends anymore?”

“No,” Severus sneered back at her, making Elías sink into his chair, _hating_ the hostility at the table. “No, I do _not_ , Vance.”

“You’re still good friends with the Malfoy’s,” Kingsley pointed out, unimpressed, watching Severus. “Aren’t the Malfoy’s friends with the Carrows?”

“ _Ha!_ ” Elías snorted before he could help it, slapping his hands over his mouth and the Order of the fucking Phoenix turned to him, blinking at his outburst. “Er…” he flushed, curling into himself a bit. “I-I mean, Narcissa hates –”

“ _Narcissa_?” Emme’s eyebrows shot up and she quickly glanced at Elías before reaching across Remus’ lap and grabbing Elías’ right arm, making him jerk. “Another _Deatheater –_ ”

“Albus, what the _hell_?!”

“How many of _them_ are there –”

“He looks so young!”

“I am not a fucking Deatheater!” Elías stood, frazzled, thinking that this discussion was just _stupid_. He quickly pushed his sleeves up, showing everyone his myriad of tattoos, especially to Emme, who sat back on her wheelchair with wide eyes. “I just fucking love snakes and happen to be a Slytherin! Boo- _hoo_ , can we get back to the part where we find a way to make sure Sirius can get back safely to England?!”

“They’d rather grovel on the enemy,” Severus said dryly and Elías glared at him.

“No,” he snapped, making Severus tense with surprise. “They’re just used to you being on the other side of a fucking wand, like, how fucking entitled do you have to be for you to expect everyone to forget, at a _war table_ , that you were on opposite sides?”

Severus said nothing, looking away and Elías groaned.

“Fine. Alright, shit, _fine_ , look, here’s the thing,” Elías began, hand running through his hair. “The Malfoy’s want _shit all_ to do with the Carrow’s because Amycus is a homicidal, purist shithead and Narcissa has lost _everything_ to war, yeah? Her family, most of all, which is what matters to her. If anything, I think _she_ and Lucius are the only way to get to Carrow without losing our lead.”

“Oh, you’ve _got_ to be shitting me,” Hestia laughed, shaking her head, incredulous.

“Either Narcissa,” he replied, wincing. “Or Corban –”

“Don’t you _dare_ get him involved into this,” Severus hissed, standing as well and Elías looked over at him, sighing. “Do _not_. You know he doesn’t want –”

“Who else is _cordial_ with Amycus, then, Sev? Hmm?” Elías asked, making him grunt. “Because as far as I know, Sienna wants his head on her wall, Avery would rather eat his own shoe, James and George never got along with him in the first place and Kiera would never willingly invite a non-grata into her home.”

“Harvey,” Severus told him and Elías paused.

“…that could maybe work,” he breathed, nodding slowly.

“Are we just going to ignore the fact that they’re speaking of other Deatheaters?” Dedalus called, looking over at Dumbledore, who looked not too pleased.

“Ex-Deatheaters,” Elías replied.

“You’re way too young to even know what those people did to us,” Hestia told Elías, who winced. “Sit down, lad. Let the others talk. _We_ know what is going on. _We_ know what happened back then. All you’ve heard is tall tales, I’m sure, if you know those people personally.”

“I know who they were, I know what they did,” Elías told her quietly, sitting down anyway, sighing as he rubbed his face. “And I understand that you’re mistrusting and angry that I’m in this meeting and I’m… their friend as well. But believe me when I say – those people do not want another war, either. That is the _one_ thing I can promise you. I swear to you.”

“You word means nothing,” Hestia told him, not unkindly but… realistically. She looked tired, glancing away from Elías. “You haven’t earned that spot at the table, lad, and –”

“Earned?” Andromeda interrupted, making Hestia flinch. The silence that took over was only interrupted by Andromeda’s vocal tics, everyone else looking uncomfortable. “Since when do we _earn_ a place at this table? We’re desperate for allies, Hestia. And it should comfort you that people like Snape and Fernández are here – they’re Slytherins. They had all the chances to be on another table, in another house, talking about _us_ and _our_ movements. Hearing that my sister and her friends do not want another war is comforting, it’s a _miracle_ to think.”

“I just don’t trust them, Meda,” she whispered, rubbing her nose, looking at her sadly. “Perhaps I would if Jenna was here, if Ulises was here. But they are not.”

“I think,” Elías whispered, gaining the attention of the two women. “That I should say that I truly am here to help. I don’t know what happened – I know but… but not first hand. And that can affect someone’s perception of events, it does. And maybe that is _good_ , because that can allow me and Severus to try and convince other folk on the other side that following Voldemort –” the entire table flinched except Emme, “—is a lost case. And it always has been.”

“Good luck,” Molly shook her head, unconvinced. “My blood status did nothing to shake them. What makes you, a muggleborn, think that you will?”

Emme’s entire face changed and Hestia’s jaw dropped a little, Elías watching their perception of him change. Andromeda, on the other hand, looked almost… _relieved_.

“You’re a _muggleborn_?” Hestia choked. “And you’re _friends_ with them?”

“You’re a muggleborn,” Andromeda repeated, amazement in her voice, her eyes soft. “And you’re _friends_ with them, _oh_ …”

“The plot thickens,” Emme hummed, pale eyebrows raising. “Alright. I’m willing to give the benefit of the doubt here, then.”

“We ask Harvey, then,” Elías said, trying to drive the conversation back to a subject for a meeting and not a subject for a dinner night at Grimmauld Place among strangers. “Harvey Gibbon can help us.”

“But will he?” Charlie asked, not looking too convinced.

“Perhaps,” Severus replied. “It’s worth a shot.”

“If not, we ask Narcissa,” Elías nodded, leaning back.

“Very well,” Dumbledore inhaled deeply, standing once more. “We move on to the next subject, then, and leave this one behind. The situation at the Ministry and the latest extremist policies…”

* * *

“That was torture,” Elías wheezed out at Remus as they exited the dining room – now meeting room – leaning against the wall and rubbing a hand over his features. Remus didn’t say anything, just nodded and closed his eyes. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he murmured. “Just… Full Moon is close and my head is aching. I’m sorry I did not help you at the meeting, Eli.”

“Don’t be, that was a shitstorm,” Elías laughed, shaking his head, staring at the ceiling of the hallway, in number 12 of Grimmauld Place before he was suddenly overcome with the thought that Sirius had probably seen this exactly same spot with his eyes as well and hated it. Hated it with his entire heart. “…we’ve got to find Pettigrew.”

“I know,” Remus breathed, voice raspy. “Every time I think of him… anger doesn’t even cover what I feel. Hearing what happened once more tonight just reminded me why I hate him. Why what he did is unforgivable.”

“I don’t know Harvey well. I think he’s one of the people I know the least of the group,” Elías confessed quietly. “But he seems… good enough.”

“He came when you were lost at the Bay,” Remus told him and Elías vaguely remembered that, shivering at the remembrance of that night. “Any lead is good, at this point.”

“Yeah,” Elías whispered, eyes closing, not wanting to see the ceiling of this awful house anymore. It was making his vision swim. “Are you sure you don’t want to come today with Harry and I? Some fresh air might do you well.”

“I…” Remus sighed, turning to him, Elías’ eyes fluttering open as Remus watched him. “You might be right. I haven’t been out of my place… in a while. A long while. I should – hm,” he rubbed the side of his neck, wincing.

“Do you want to stay over?” Elías suggested softly.

“I’d like to, yes,” Remus nodded, staring at the floor tiles and Elías couldn’t read his face.

“Did you take the Wolfsbane?” Elías reached over to rub his shoulder.

“Not yet,” Remus groaned. “I –”

“You’ve to take it in thirty minutes,” a low voice told him and Severus walked out of the dining room, arms crossing, watching Remus. “No exceptions. I left it over your table, as you know.”

“Yes, yes, I’ve got it,” Remus nodded, watching Severus. “Are you alright?”

“I’m used to the hostility,” Severus said, even though Elías knew that one never got used to it. “I’ve much to do. Elías, when you can, we should speak about Harvey and how we may approach this situation.”

“Tomorrow morning,” Elías replied. “Come for breakfast.”

“Very well,” Severus said before immediately turning around and leaving, making Elías frown. It was understandable that he didn’t want to spend more time here but couldn’t he at least say goodbye?

“Did he look angry to you?” Elías asked Remus, who snorted.

“He looks like stone, Eli,” he said dryly. “I don’t know how you can read him half the time.”

“I dunno,” Elías shrugged, sighing. “I suppose I just… know him well.”

The voices inside the dining room were starting to get louder and Elías’ stomach churned a little. He didn’t want to stay, didn’t want to talk to all those people who did not know he had Seen things. He didn’t want to admit over and over again that his views on everything were just fucking screwed to hell because he’d only seen the worst moments, the _worst of all_. He didn’t want to look at Emme in the eye after he’d seen Dorcas die.

“Let’s go,” Elías quickly told Remus, standing straight and walking through the kitchen to the entrance, breathing a bit hard. “Let’s get the hell out of this house.”


	16. a moment of peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a very interesting chapter but it does allow me to have time pass! And plant some seeds for future stuff heheheheheh
> 
> Songs for this Chapter:  
> \- Lyin' Eyes by the Eagles  
> \- New Kid in Town by the Eagles  
> \- Tequila Sunrise by the Eagles
> 
> Trigger Warnings for this chapter:  
> \- Mention of scars  
> \- Mention of mental illness  
> \- Mention of depression

“Stay still – still, I said!” Elías laughed, hands moving to hold Remus’ face in place as Harry rushed to the bathroom to grab some Aftersun, making Elías shake his head. “I told you to put on more sunscreen, Moony.”

“I’m a hardy creature, I thought I could take it,” he groaned, his cheeks and nose red red red as if he was a little drunk. Freckles had exploded all over his face, too, and Elías thought he looked absolutely adorable, grinning from ear to ear. “I didn’t expect – I’ve never been in the sea like that!”

“You gotta put it on more frequently,” Elías laughed, lifting his arm. “See? Even I burned a little bit.”

“It’s so bothersome,” Remus grunted, grabbing Elías’ arm and looking at the slight redness over it, poking the skin only for a white imprint to be left of his finger. “You told me you burn a lot?”

“I do, I’m just much more careful now,” Elías chuckled, smiling as Harry came back with the huge white and blue bottle. “Thank you, Harry – are you good? Alright?”

“Yes, actually. No burning,” he replied. His hair was _wildly_ curly from the sea salt in it and he was still wearing his wet trunks but he looked happy. He’d been an excellent pupil today, listening in rapt attention and ready to learn all the terminology for tomorrow, when he’d have his first lesson.

“Good,” Elías patted his side, his shirt wet as well. “Then go ahead and take a shower to rinse all the salt off, yeah? Get dry, you could catch a cold easily.”

“Yes, sir!” he nodded before giving Remus a kind smile of encouragement and disappearing up the stairs, leaving Elías to gently pour some cream onto his fingers and dot it over Remus’ face.

“He had a lot of fun, today,” Remus whispered as Elías rubbed gently onto his cheek. “Seemed… happier than I’ve seen him in all the time I’ve known him.”

“I think he enjoys having things to do,” Elías replied before snorting. “Gods, what a stupid thing to say – he’s a kid. He likes exercise and going out and doing things in the summer. He’s never had a chance to, before. To enjoy himself during the summer, I mean.”

“He deserves to,” Remus whispered as Elías finished with his face, hissing. “I… I think I also burned my back and shoulders.”

“ _Remus_ ,” Elías gasped, eyes wide. “Did you _not_ apply sunscreen?”

“I put on my shirt after a while, I didn’t think I’d burned yet,” the other winced.

“Fucking _Brits_ – turn around,” Elías rolled his eyes, sitting back. “Show me your back, come on. This will feel super relieving, _mano de santo_ as my ma calls it.”

“Alright, alright,” Remus laughed, turning to face away from Elías, pulling off his t-shirt and Elías paused as he saw the multiple scars, surprised to see freckles also dotted over them. Back at Hogwarts, Remus hadn’t had those and Elías ran his wet fingers gently over them, assessing the burn. “Ouch!”

“Shut your trap, this is _your_ fault. I told you to put on sunscreen,” Elías huffed, grabbing Remus’ waist and moving him a bit to the right for better access. The muscles in Remus’ back shifted and he hissed as he rolled his shoulders. “It’ll feel better when I’m done. Then you just lay down and let it sink, yeah?”

“Have you had to do this a lot?” Remus laughed.

“Yep,” Elías giggled a bit, throwing a generous amount of Aftersun over Remus’ back, the werewolf making a surprised noise. “See?”

“Oh, that’s so much better,” he said, breathy, eyes wide. “I uh – I would’ve thought that with you always at sea, you’d tan easily.”

“Nope. That’s just my sister,” Elías shrugged, making sure his entire burn was covered. “She tans super easily, I just burn – which is why I’m careful.”

“Ha – _haa_ ,” Remus whined a bit, squirming and Elías laughed. “This is going to bother me a lot tonight, isn’t it?”

“Just sleep on your front, smartass,” Elías grinned, impossibly endeared.

There was a moment of silence as Elías finished spreading the lotion around, finishing by applying the leftover on his own arms and nose, sure that even he’d taken a bit of reddening. He was tired but in the good way – exhaustion in his bones from a day well-spent in the waves, the sea splashing the three of them and the sun on their faces. Even Elías’ hair had bleached a little and he was glad to feel the warmth of summer get to Harry and Remus a bit.

Remus looked _relaxed_ as he laid on the couch on his front, eyes closed, breathing gently and Elías adjusted his pillow so it’d be a little more comfortable, looking through the magnets of his fridge to try and see which restaurant to call for dinner.

“Eli?”

“Hmm?” Elías looked over at the couch and saw that Remus hadn’t moved at all, but was speaking in a soft voice. “Yeah?”

“Would you come in the morning after the Full Moon to check on me?”

Elías froze for a moment, blinking hard before moving towards the couch, hands on the backrest, looking over Remus’ limp form. His scars shone and the sun was starting to set, painting everything in oranges. Remus looked a bit out of this world, in this kind of light, with his straw colored hair and multiple scars. Elías loved every single one of them – the gnarly one over his left shoulder, the one cutting his upper lip and nose, the one making his eyebrow a bit wonky – they all made _Remus_ and as Elías sat in front of the couch, facing Remus, he wondered when he’d get over this stupid crush.

“Of course,” he told Remus quietly, hand moving to grab his hand, squeezing. “Are you alright? You’ve been a bit out of it.”

“Last Full Moon was a bit harrowing, to say the least,” Remus rasped, eyes closed but Elías had a feeling that if they’d been open, they would be wet. “I… I won’t be with Padfoot this time. I think I got used to it, you know?”

“Oh, _Moony_ ,” Elías breathed, moving a bit closer, eyes soft. “I’m so sorry. We – Severus and I will talk tomorrow to Harvey –”

“I know, I know,” Remus rasped, his fingers shifting to entwine with Elías’, calloused and strong as he breathed in sharply. “I just – miss him. Like a fool.”

“You’re not a fool for missing Sirius,” Elías told him softly, shaking his head. “You’re just human, you know. You love Sirius and Sirius loves you and you two have been best friends for a long time, and _more_ , even. So no one could blame you for it.”

“I just feel pathetic,” Remus confessed quietly, making Elías sigh. “We’ve all changed. Emme looks so good – you know she’s got two degrees now? And a PhD? She’s moved on with her life and done amazing things. Hestia is working on rehabilitating creatures in the Southern Joyous Sanctum, like she’s always dreamed of. Kingsley is two years away from being Minister of Magic. What the bloody hell am I doing, Eli? Clinging so hard to the past?”

“You think those people don’t struggle, too?” Elías offered, frowning. “You heard Hestia this morning, she still thinks of those who passed away. And everyone is worried about Sirius – Remus, you and Sirius have a _long_ history together and it’s only been until recently that your perspective on _harrowing_ events has shifted.”

Remus gave a deep sigh, burying his face onto the throw pillow and letting out a noise of annoyance and embarrassment, making Elías laugh a little.

“Moony – _Moony_ , come on,” he encouraged softly, patting his side that wasn’t wet with lotion for his stupid sunburn. “You miss Sirius. You two were starting to rekindle a little flame. It’s _understandable_.”

“I was never _once_ in Grimmauld,” the werewolf bemoaned. “And I stepped inside and it _smelled like him_ in some corners. I’m pathetic. I’m so daft.”

“No, you’re just in love,” Elías grinned, pulling his knees to his chest, surprisingly not jealous at all, just amused and endeared at Remus’ display. “Is this why you’ve been sad the whole day? That things are different and the Full Moon is approaching and everything is piling up?”

“Yes,” Remus sighed deeply. “It – it helped a lot to go outside with you and Harry today. To el Puerto, and all.”

“Well, I’m glad it helped,” Elías chuckled, leaning over to kiss the top of Remus’ head, seeing a small smile appear on Remus’ face as he turned it towards Elías. “I had a feeling you were feeling out of it. When I have a bad day or week… going out does help, especially with friends.”

Remus said nothing for a moment, just watching Elías before reaching over to brush a seasalt lock of his hair behind his ear, making Elías’ heart skip a beat without his permission. Elías just leaned into his touch, repeating to himself over and over that this was just friendly, that people like Andromeda just didn’t understand that Remus needed that touch, just like Elías needed that touch. It meant nothing.

“You were also out of it, today,” Remus finally said.

“I hate that house,” Elías confessed, frowning deeply. “It… I feel like I’m about to roll my eyes back and have a Sight whenever I step a foot in there. It’s like the house is trying to make me See something and I really, _really_ don’t want to. It’s creepy.”

Remus’ thumb pressed between his eyebrows, smoothing Elías’ frown and the Spaniard gave a deep sigh, closing his eyes, letting Remus’ presence calm him down.

“Have you gotten ahead with the journal?” Remus asked.

“Somewhat,” Elías mumbled. “I’ve been busy, working on the stupid fucking performance for the tournament. Fillius and I are swamped and we still don’t have a choir to work with. I’m running out of ideas.”

“Hm,” Remus replied, giving a bit of a yawn before his hand dropped from Elías’ face, finding his fingers, squeezing them. “I’m sure you’ll find someone, Eli. You and Flitwick are talented musicians.”

“Not a musician,” Elías reminded him, laughing.

“I see enough instruments here to deny that claim,” Remus grinned, hair falling over his eyes and Elías quickly looked to the ceiling so he wouldn’t blush up a storm. Whenever Remus smiled, it felt like his chest would cave in. “Play me something.”

“Right now?” Elías asked, incredulous.

“Yes. Now,” Remus was still smiling and Elías sighed, unable to help himself as he returned it and quickly stood. “What have you been working on?”

“The Parting Glass,” Elías hummed, grabbing his old acoustic guitar from its stand, walking back to the space between the coffee table and the couch, checking the tuning. “It’s a beautiful song and I don’t know if you heard it in your graduation –”

“It’s the song that always plays,” Remus nodded, laughing. “Fitting, to represent Hogwarts.”

“Mhmm,” Elías fiddled with the tuning. “I’ve been learning a lot about magic and music, too. Fillius and I spend a lot of time talking about the history of music within Wizarding society and it’s _fascinating_. He recently found a music sheet for a very old song called The Horror and the –”

“The Horror and the Wild,” Remus interrupted, making Elías look up and nod rapidly. “Yes, that’s – you’re going to laugh, but that is Sirius’ favorite song from them. He used to sing along to it a lot, since his family has all these antiques related to them.”

“Oh, no shit?” Elías’ eyes widened. “No wonder Sirius loves it, to be honest. Right up his alley.”

“He used to say it reminded him of his father and later on er… Dumbledore,” Remus winced, making Elías’ lips purse a bit. “Sirius isn’t the biggest fan of Dumbledore, let’s say.”

“He has _some_ sense, then,” Elías snorted, playing a chord before going back to tuning. “I did a little, like – arrangement for it. Maybe I’ll show Sirius when he gets back.”

“Yes, that’d… I’m sure he’d like that,” Remus whispered, looking at the fret of the guitar, sighing softly. “Eli?”

“Yes?” Elías asked, eyebrows raising. “You can ask me whatever, you know?”

Remus laughed, looking sad, “I feel daft asking this but – but could you play something that you know Sirius likes?”

Elías laughed, “Yes. Yes, I can do that for you.”

Remus relaxed on the couch, sighing quietly, “Thank you…”

Elías thought for a moment on Sirius and a song that wouldn’t make any of them spiral at the moment. The light of the sunset was starting to turn a deeper orange and Elías leaned back on the coffee table, breathing out as he relaxed. It was easy to choose, then, when he remembered that night when he and Sirius had laid in that dusty bed in the Shrieking Shack, talking about music.

He began to play, the song coming to him quickly since he and his father had played it a thousand times. Remus seemed to perk up, eyes opening a sliver, watching Elías lean back and start to sing.

“ _City girls just seem to find out early how to open doors with just a smile_ ,” he sang softly, “ _A rich old man and she won't have to worry, she'll dress up all in lace go in style. Late at night a big old house gets lonely. I guess every form of refuge has its price. And it breaks her heart to think her love is only given to a man with hands as cold as ice…”_

“I know this one,” Remus whispered before joining the song, missing a few phrases and words but mostly following along.

By the time the song was over, Remus looked much better and much more relaxed than before. Elías kept playing other songs by the Eagles, gentle ones telling stories that had nothing to do with Remus or Elías or any of their friends. Stories far away from Sights and war and meetings with ghosts. Harry came back as he was finishing Tequila Sunrise.

Harry moved carefully to sit on top of Remus’ legs, making Remus wiggle them so Harry would almost fall, the kid laughing and quickly holding onto the couch.

“Remus, stop!” he giggled and Remus grinned, doing as told, Elías finishing the song with a huge smile as well. “Are we having takeout?”

“What makes you say that?” Elías cocked an eyebrow at him, arm over his guitar.

“Because dinner isn’t ready yet,” the little shit replied, making Elías laugh.

“You’d be right with that – what do you want, kiddo?” he asked.

“Remus? Do you want anything?” Harry turned to the werewolf instead, looking kindly at him. “You’re the one burnt and uncomfortable.”

“Thank you, Harry,” Remus laughed, trying to look at the boy from the corner of his eye. “But choose as you like. I don’t mind whichever.”

“Can we get some Indian, then?” Harry grinned wildly.

“You got it,” Elías nodded, standing to put his guitar away and find the menu of the Indian restaurant in San Fernando, Harry turning again to Remus.

“Are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine. Elías knows how to treat this,” Remus laughed.

“Can’t you just use magic?” Harry questioned.

“Unfortunately, I do not know how to heal burns,” Remus shrugged, then hissed. “Ouch.”

Harry laughed, wriggling to get comfortable between Remus’ feet, his own on the edge of the couch, reaching for the controller, “Are you staying over?”

“Seems like I am,” Remus hummed. “Do you m –”

“Do you really have to ask?”

“Fine, alright!” Remus chuckled, shaking his head, hands up. “I suppose not.”

“I want you to stay,” Harry murmured, making Elías smile from the kitchen and Remus fall quiet on the couch. “Always. Like – _always_.”

“Why don’t you stay a few days, Remus?” Elías suggested, moving towards the couch and Remus jerked, eyes wide, sitting up carefully so his back didn’t touch anything, turning to Elías. “Yeah! Come on, it’s summer. Have you got anything to do back in your apartment?”

“I… no, actually,” he confessed quietly, looking stunned. “Are you sure –”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Harry bounced on the couch, dropping over Remus’ arm, eyes wide and without glasses they looked _so_ big. Remus was done for, the werewolf watching the boy. “Come on! It’s the Full Moon soon, right? So you’re probably feeling a bit sick, we can help!”

“That’s true,” Elías agreed, smiling. “We can take care of you –”

“You don’t have to,” Remus blurted out quickly, his pale greens still wide.

“I know,” Elías moved to sit on the armrest of the couch, smiling, brushing Remus’ hair out of his eyes. “But I think Harry and I want to have you around more. This house is a bit big for two people. Three would make it better, yeah?”

“Yes, yes, please! Please, Remus!” Harry begged.

“Oh, you two are unfair,” Remus whispered, laughing, his hand rubbing the side of his neck, giving a little smile. “Alright. Alright, fine, I’ll stay for a while. Week or two at m –”

“YES!” Harry shouted, hugging him quickly and Remus yelped, making Elías quickly pull Harry away. “Sorry! Sorry, sorry!”

“My…. _back_ …” Remus wheezed.

Elías laughed, feeling the lotion sticky on Harry’s arm, the two staring to laugh as Remus giggled into the back of the couch and as much as today wasn’t a perfect day, Elías would sure as hell call it a good one.

Tuesday morning opened with Severus walking through the chimney and into Remus, the two men stumbling against the dining table until Severus finally gripped Remus’ arm and held him in place, growling out, “ _Lupin, watch out_.”

Remus groaned, head dropping back. “I’m _sunburnt_ , Severus.”

“Not my fault you just _stand_ in front of the chimney –”

“You’re the one who did not warn!”

“ _Boys_!” Elías snapped from the kitchen, brandishing a spatula threateningly as Harry drank his milk, watching the two professors wrestling away from each other. “It’s nine in the morning. If I have to break up a fight, none of you will come out unharmed. Am I understood?”

Remus wheezed out _yes_ while Severus just pulled back, grunting, at the very least helping Remus stand straight before walking over to Elías, eyes stormy. Elías watched him, frowning, concerned for him as he finished the French toast and slid it over to Harry’s plate, putting the pan out of the fire.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, hands on his hips.

“Harvey does not want to talk to Carrow,” he told him and Elías closed his eyes, sighing deeply. “I’ve tried to explain the situation but Harvey is not responding to my letters.”

“Can’t we just go see him?” Elías asked, huffing.

“In New Mexico?” Severus cocked an eyebrow. “I’d rather not.”

Elías paused, “Oh. Oh, I thought he lived in Europe.”

“Not at all,” Severus crossed his arms. “He’s from Arizona and lives now in the Gibbon Ranch. He trains horses.”

Remus leaned back against the dining table, humming, “I knew Gibbon was American, but I didn’t know he was –”

“He’s a _cowboy_?” Elías interrupted, eyes like saucers, hands moving to grip Severus’ front tunic, shaking him. “He’s a cowboy and nobody’s told me?!”

“He doesn’t have cows,” Severus replied slowly and Remus began to laugh into his hand as Elías dropped his forehead on Severus’ chest.

“I hate you. I hate you so much,” Elías giggled, shaking his head, looking up at Severus with soft blues. “A cowboy as – aesthetic and shit, Sev. He doesn’t need to have cows, alright?”

“Oh,” he blinked, shifting. “I suppose he is one, then.”

“We’re going to his ranch now,” Elías stated, hands on his hips, stepping back. “And we’re going to ask him to talk to Carrow.”

“I don’t think it will work,” Severus scowled. “Perhaps if we wait a month or two for him to lower his guard, he might. Harvey is the one safest from the other Deatheaters. So I don’t think he’s in any imminent danger, as Will is right now. If he talks to Carrow, it will be alright. But if we ask Narcissa, I’d be more worried.”

“So you’re saying we just – wait more?” Elías frowned.

“Yes. Unfortunately,” Severus cleared his throat. “Black will just have to wait. His… house is uninhabitable, anyway –”

"Andromeda is working on making it habitable," Remus countered, arms crossed. "Didn't she close the holes on the floor already?"

“Sirius would stay here anyway, not _there_ ,” Elías wrinkled his nose and Severus’ dark eyes went stormy again, looking away. Elias sighed, ready to explain why. “Sev – _Sev_ , I know –”

“You’re friends with him,” Severus began slowly with a dry tone, looking fucking pissed but almost as if he was holding back. “It is… understandable that you would want to help him.”

“Oh.”

Elías stood there, surprised, watching Severus hold back insults and curses and probably everything that he wanted to say about Sirius Black under a tight grip. Elías felt proud in that moment – because even though Severus wanted to do that, he understood that Elías and Remus _were_ friends with Sirius, cared about him, and it wasn’t the best to talk shit about him.

“Have you eaten breakfast?” Elías asked him and Severus cleared his throat.

“I have,” he replied, tense. “But I would not mind another cup of coffee.”

“Sit down, relax a bit, then,” Elías offered as he moved to the coffee machine, Severus very slowly sliding next to Harry, on the other stool, the kid watching them all with curious eyes behind his round glasses. “Harry, do you want anything else?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Who’s Harvey?”

“None of your business –”

“A common friend of ours,” Elías replied easily, Severus glaring at him. “What? It’s the _truth_. Harvey is a friend who can maybe let us know where Peter Pettigrew is. That is all. We’re all working to try and catch him, _as the kid has probably guessed_.”

“Why must you tell the child _everything?_ ” Severus grunted as Harry just grinned widely.

“He does it always,” Remus hummed, walking into the kitchen nook to make himself some more tea, elbows bumping with Elías’. “Don’t try and fight it. It’s part of their deal.”

“What deal?” Severus asked tiredly.

“The deal where he doesn’t hide stuff from me, like everyone else does,” Harry piped in, giving Severus a smug look. “He’s been keeping true.”

“Everything that he needs to know, he knows, or he _will_ know,” Elías told Severus, sliding his mug of coffee over, leaning over the counter to watch him. “If you’ve a problem with that, you know whom to blame for hiding stuff.”

“Hm,” was all Severus said, rolling his eyes before taking a deep sip of his hot coffee, leaning back a bit. “What are you doing today?”

“Harry has sailing lessons,” Elías nodded over at the kid. “Otherwise, I’m free. Remus is staying while the Full Moon is ahead, so he’ll probably come with me.”

“Narcissa told me that she wanted to invite you this Friday to… go about Strasbourg with her and Toby,” Severus told him and Elías blinked. “To _hang out_.”

“Oh?” Elías felt a bit caught. “Wait, but this Friday Corban –”

“I’ll be there,” Severus shrugged.

“Yes, but today I’m also not able to go with him and I feel bad,” Elías sighed.

“It will do him well, go start going alone,” Severus pointed out. “Let him.”

“Very well,” Elías rubbed his face. “Tell her – yeah, sure! Sure, alright. I’ll go.”

“She looks a lot like Sirius,” Harry pointed out and Elías nodded, smiling gently at Harry. “I… I know she’s Draco’s mother but she actually looks nice. I don’t know how she’s – she’s married to _Lucius Malfoy_.”

“Lucius is very different in closed doors,” Elías pointed out, moving aside to let Remus through with his cuppa. “Not fair at all, since he _is_ an ass. But behind closed doors he really changes. It’s a pureblood thing.”

“Very much a pureblood thing,” Remus snorted from his seat, careful of his back.

Severus grunted from his seat, “Lucius has… his own issues.”

“Like you?” Harry boldly asked, earning a glare and Elías tried not to laugh, hiding a smile behind his hand.

“Yes, Potter,” Severus sneered. “And much like anyone else in this house.”

“Alright, alright, no fighting,” Elías laughed, shaking his head. “Are you staying for lunch, Sev?”

“Fortunately, I’ve got a meeting with the Head of International Potion Distribution department,” Severus replied. “I’ve got to renovate my license next year and I’m doing preparations for the next parchment I must publish.”

Elías perked up, eyes bright, “Oh?”

“Indeed,” Severus relaxed a bit. “I’ll speak to you later on it, along with our dueling lesson. Do not think that I’ve forgotten about it.”

Elías nodded, “Right, yes – haven’t forgotten.”

“Good,” the potioneer stood, nodding at Remus and flicking Harry’s ear before he disappeared into the chimney, Harry glaring at his back as he rubbed his ear.

“He’s _so_ dramatic,” the boy mumbled.

“It’s the Slytherin,” Elías laughed, standing straight before tilting Remus’ chin up, watching his face. “Ah, it’s already much better. Go lay on the couch and let me apply some more lotion, yeah? Harry, have you got any plans today?”

“Seamus invited us to his house, actually,” Harry rubbed his nose, turning to the other two adults. “Just got a letter this morning. Hermione and Ron are going, can I go?”

“Where is it?” Elías hummed.

“Ireland. Portrush,” Harry explained, following Remus and Elías to the couch. “There’s a summer festival going on there, like a medieval festival in the Wizarding part of it? And Seamus’ mother is performing.”

Elías paused, absolutely frozen, mind clicking for a moment as he turned to Harry, eyes narrowed.

“Seamus’ mother…” Elías began slowly. “She’s a singer?”

“Uh-huh,” Harry nodded. “She’s really famous. Does opera stuff but also like, traditional Irish songs and the like.”

“Would you mind if I came over with you at first? To talk to her?” Elías asked, thinking of Seamus in choir and his naturally gifted voice. The boy was always singing about and Elías had heard him once or twice. If he was half as good as his mother, who sang traditional songs…

“Er, no, not at all, I think,” Harry replied.

“I’ve to message Fillius,” Elías said immediately, rushing up to his study.

* * *

The following few days were busy, which Elías didn’t mind at all. Harry began his sailing lessons, which he thoroughly enjoyed and begged Elías to take him the next day to el Puerto again, just to brush up on all the new concepts. It wasn’t like football or quidditch but Harry seemed to enjoy the exercise and the sun in his face – and the fact that he could drill Elías’ father relentlessly with questions about how things worked, getting detailed explanations in return until he was half-asleep on the couch with Remus and Lourdes picking up the empty plates on the dinner table.

Elías did get a hold of Filius, as well, and a hold of Saoirse Finnigan. She found it flattering that they’d asked her but stayed firm that she’d only perform with the rest of her troupe – a bit over the budget but Elías and Filius decided that it would be worth it. Remus had never heard of Saoirse but the more Elías researched her, the more she realized why she was esteemed in Ireland. She was a single mother, an Irish activist, a traditional and opera singer and had been in Gryffindor during her time at Hogwarts. People would love her, surely.

On top of their preparations for the performance, Elías and Remus were also sent informative letters during Friday evening after Elías returned from Strasbourg with Narcissa and Avery, letting them know that some schools had dropped from the Tournament due to _lack of compromise_ , whatever that meant. Thus, only eighteen schools would participate in the TriWizard Tournament, Hogwarts still one of them. Elías wished to be a fly on the wall in those meetings, wondering what exactly was going on behind closed doors.

On Saturday, Remus, Elías and Harry headed to Andromeda’s home in the outskirts of a city in Cumbria. Harry even tried to brush his hair back for some reason and ended up trudging over to Elías with a broken comb, making Remus laugh. Dinner _was_ lovely, though, with Tonks also there to entertain Harry with her metamorphing. In the end, though, Harry ended up shyly asking questions about Sirius, getting all the delightful childhood stories from Bluehill, complete with that time Narcissa lent him one of her dresses and he liked it so much that he refused to wear anything else for an entire week. She spoke of the Black family in a different light – a bit sad, a bit melancholic, but not bitter at all, not in the way Sirius spoke. It was different, and Elías wondered if he should’ve told Narcissa that he was meeting with her sister.

Finally, on Sunday, Elías helped Remus get to Hogwarts, where he had been invited to spend the Full Moon. Harry stayed at El Rompido with Hermione and Ron, eating pizza and watching scary movies on the TV while Elías sat on the rackety, familiar floor and made sure that Remus drank the last Wolfsbane, giving Remus overly sugary treats to compensate.

The two of them sat on the bed for a while, with Remus watching the window, the sun starting to lower on the sky, and Elías babbled about something senseless that had happened during practice for the performance that morning. He got cut off, though, when Remus reached over and grabbed his arm, lifting it to look at his tattoos, seemingly bored.

“Am I boring you?” Elías asked, laughing.

“I have no idea what an alto is, Eli,” Remus laughed, voice already rough.

“Nah, it’s my fault. I should know when to shut up,” Elías hummed, letting him inspect the little details of his snake. “I think I’m gonna get another one soon, before the summer ends.”

“What would you get?” Remus brushed a thumb through the cosmonaut on his inner wrist and Elías laughed.

“Fuck if I know,” he confessed. “I got a bunch of ideas. Maybe I’ll get a constellation. Or another sea critter. I’ve a bunch of those, and bugs.”

“Yes, I noticed,” Remus gave a small, sleepy smile as he touched the bee near his elbow, fuzzy and so cute, the first bug Elías had gotten. “What’s your favorite?”

“All of them,” Elías confessed, his head moving so that it bonked gently with Remus’. “Absolutely all of them. I like making a canvas of my skin.”

“Hmm,” Remus proceeded to brush the scars on the inner side of his arm, swallowing. “Do you also feel surreal?”

“What do you mean?” Elías blinked.

“Like – surreal. Like everything that is happening is not real,” Remus whispered and when Elías sat up to look at him, he found Remus’ eyes closed.

“Are you alright? Is it the Full Moon fucking with your head?” Elías asked gently, hand moving to touch Remus’ forehead but the werewolf shook his head, grabbing his hand and pulling it away from his head, entwining their fingers. Elías fell quiet.

“I think I’ve been so off lately because things are good,” he finally said, making Elías’ stomach churn a bit as Remus opened his eyes to look at the ceiling of the Shrieking Shack. “Today is a Full Moon and I should be feeling worse about it, considering the last one –”

“ _Remus_ , it wasn’t –”

“But I _don’t_ , that’s the thing,” Remus turned to Elías, making the Spaniard sigh a bit, a small smile twitching on his lips as he squeezed Remus’ head. “Is this healing?”

“Maybe,” Elías replied, patting his chest with his free hand. “It’s two steps forward, one back. You’ll relapse into bad habits and bad moods but you’re making progress and that’s impressive and worth celebrating, Moony. So after this _calm_ Full Moon, you’ll rest up in the Infirmary and have a long nap and then come back to help me choose Harry’s presents for his birthday, alright? And we’ll finish the Summer and go into Fall and then Winter and then another year, and another, and another, until the bad stuff is way behind and it doesn’t hurt as much.”

Remus watched him, looking stunned but almost happy, “And… and we’ll help Sirius.”

“And we’ll help Sirius,” Elías nodded, agreeing, smiling at him. “Get that man some fucking therapy. And you should go, too –”

“Sun’s already so low, isn’t it?” Remus looked at the window quickly and Elías giggled, shoving at him a bit, making the werewolf bark out a laugh.

“Remus!” he scolded and the Gryffindor snickered, turning to Elías, looking ready to fall asleep anytime. It was tender, how he seemed so… soft in this light. Elías swallowed, shaking his head quick. “You’ll have to face it sometime.”

“My dad wants to have lunch in the lake house next Friday, are you in?” Remus changed the subject, making Elías snort.

“Always in to see Lyall,” he replied. “What about the Fernández reunion barbeque? You wanna join us?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Remus flushed. “Your whole family?”

“Not all of them, just the Fernández side,” Elías shrugged.

“I’ll uh – I’ll think about it,” Remus responded, giving out a hard yawn. “You really should leave, though. Tomorrow you’ve an early meeting, too.”

“I know, I know,” Elías sighed, standing and stumbling to the floor, out of the bed. “I’ll take all the notes so you don’t miss anything out. Like a good little nerd.”

“You _are_ a nerd, though,” Remus laughed into the old pillow and Elías laughed, reaching over to take off Remus’ shoes. “Not judging, so am I.”

“I know, I know,” Elías chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll come back after blue hour and get you to Poppy, alright? Try and relax and – and have a nice Full Moon, alright?”

“I’ll try,” Remus murmured, curling in bed, breathing out and, in just under two minutes, he was asleep, making the pressure in Elías’ chest give out a little bit. It’d be fine. He’d be fine. It was all going to be alright.

Elías arrived back in el Rompido to see Ron covering his face with a pillow and Harry deep asleep against his arm as Hermione munched on popcorn, making Elías relax. He set his wallet and keys aside, walking over, seeing that they were watching Alien.

“Hey, guys,” he smiled.

“ _BLOODY HELL!_ ” Ron jumped out of his skin, startling Harry awake as Hermione gave a scream, the three kids almost falling off the couch as Elías laughed, shaking his head, endlessly amused. “Professor Fernández!”

“Watch your language, Ron,” Elías scolded, the boy flushing darkly and nodding. “Sorry for the scare, I wasn’t trying to be quiet.”

“It’s fine,” Ron mumbled, leaning back against Harry, who rubbed his eyes and took off his glasses. “It’s a scary movie.”

“Not really,” Hermione said. “It’s just scary because you can’t see the monster, Ronald.”

“Yes, you can! You can see all that disgusting saliva dropping everywhere!” the boy pointed at the TV, where the stupid cat was moving about. Elías grinned, leaning on the back of the couch, brushing Harry’s hair back a bit.

“Your ma really liked this movie,” he told him, making every fall quiet, Harry blinking rapidly at Elías, waking up slightly. “She was really into horror movies. Apparently, you father used to get _really_ scared, so in the end it’d be her watching them and your dad hiding.”

Harry gave a laugh, looking delighted and Ron nudged Hermione, “See? If Harry’s father – who was super cool, as we all know! – didn’t like horror movies, then you can’t blame me!”

“It’s just a _screen_ , Ron,” she rolled her eyes.

“Can we rewind a bit?” Harry suddenly asked his two friends, making them turn to him. “I – I fell asleep so can we rewind? Just a bit. Please. I… I wanna know what happened.”

“Sure, mate,” Ron nodded, easily agreeing and Elías gave a soft smile as Hermione reached for the controller, rewinding the tape while Elías cleaned the dinner plates on the coffee table. He finished cleaning all the dirty dishes, opening the back door to let some nice breeze in before the three kids overheated and when he looked over he saw that Harry was now in the middle of the couch, with Hermione’s head against his shoulder and Ron’s arm over the back of the couch.

Elías went to sleep at ease.


	17. Old Feuds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot happened and, to be honest, no excuse except "I needed time to myself". But I found the motivation to keep going. Thanks to anyone who's still reading this! Hopefully this chapter is nice enough to calm your anger!
> 
> Songs in this Chapter:  
> \- Just go and listen to all of Diamond Dogs by David Bowie. It is THE quintessential Sirius Black album.
> 
> Trigger Warnings in this chapter:  
> \- Mention of bullying  
> \- Mention of divorce  
> \- Mention of ludopathy  
> \- Mention of malnutrition

In the morning, as Elías began to trudge through the frozen-solid grass of the Hogsmeade trek towards the Shrieking Shack, he realized that the front door was open.

He nearly dropped the bag he was carrying, dread rushing up his spine and, slowly, he stepped inside, looking at the lock. It was – it was _fine_. There was no broken hinges, no splintered wood and Elías saw only a few claw marks that had already been here, before Elías was even a professor. His heart didn’t slow down, either way, because maybe a few kids had gone here and – if Remus had –

“Stay _still_ ,” he heard a familiar voice speak from upstairs as Remus’ groan rang out, making Elías just _blink_ with utter surprise, freezing at the front door.

“Tastes awful –”

“It will get you out of bedrest _sooner_ , Lupin.”

Quiet. Then - 

“Well done. At least you listen _now_.”

“Fuck you,” Remus laughed breathlessly from upstairs and Elías climbed the stairs with a deep sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose, Severus and Remus looking up as he leaned his shoulder against the doorway of the bedroom. “Hey,” the werewolf greeted tiredly.

“Good morning, you two,” Elías gave a smile at the werewolf and the potioneer, spirits lifting, seeing Severus willingly – not just _touch_ , but _support_ Remus’ back. There was an ease there that there hadn’t been… probably _ever_. It was nowhere near the comfort that Severus and Corban had, of course, but it was something. “I brought you some warm milk with honey.”

“Oh, thank you,” Remus’ face turned into a mask of elation and he reached out with a shaky hand as Elías offered the thermos, sitting down on the edge of the mattress.

“How was last night?” the Spaniard asked, seeing Severus cork an empty vial and pocket it, probably something for the exhaustion.

“Better than June’s moon,” Remus mumbled between sips and Elías gave a little laugh, trying to dissipate the tension that the statement caused.

“Only uphill from here,” the blond Slytherin murmured, reaching over to rub Remus’ upper back, the werewolf sending him a tired smile. “We should get you to Poppy’s.”

As Severus stood, Remus winced, “Couldn’t I just… take a Pepper-Up and go to the meeting with y–”

“Not an option, Lupin,” Severus interrupted, he and Elías leaning down to help Remus on his feet. The Gryffindor was dressed already and he truly looked better than Elías had seen him every other morning-after but…

“You need to sleep for real,” Elías sighed, letting Remus’ arm slide over his shoulder, Severus’ arm looping around Remus’ waist since the two Slytherins differed so much in height. “I’ll take notes, I told you I would.”

“I’d just rather not –” Remus interrupted himself with a cough, giving a groan. His voice was shot to hell, really, and Elías only hoped that Poppy had something for that. “…not miss any meetings.”

“It’ll be fine,” Elías assured him as the three of them walked through the tunnel underground. It was a bit cold and Elías wished he’d taken a coat or something – who would’ve known that England would still be a fucking depressing landscape in the summer?

“It is just a regular weekly meeting, Lupin,” Severus spoke up, looking forward, his free arm raised with his wand to light up the way. “There won’t be anything of great interest, I’m sure.”

Remus, way too tired from the full moon, decided to say nothing and Elías filled the silence between the Whomping Willow and the Hospital Wing with an anecdote of his father and a raccoon that he’d been attacked by in Dallas, back in ‘87. It brought some laughter from Remus and a twitch of Severus’ lips – upward, might he add – so it was probably worth it.

“I’m surprised to see you as well, Severus!” Poppy remarked once Remus was potioned-up and laying in an Infirmary bed. “Some would say you’re taking care of –”

“The next batch of Pain Relief Potion will come on Wednesday,” Severus told her, cutting her off pointedly as Elías quickly covered his mouth with his hand, trying not to laugh. Poppy glanced at the potioneer with a little knowing smirk and Severus _very_ obviously ignored the two of them as Poppy nodded. “No delay.”

“Good to know, good to know,” she hummed, patting Severus’ arm. “Well! Remus is in good hands, so do not worry. He’ll be back with you lot before the sun sets.”

“Thank you,” Elías smiled at her and, with that, the two professors turned around and left the Infirmary in peaceful quiet, Elías letting out a deep sigh of relief.

It was only as the two of them were automatically moving towards Severus’ rooms that Elías finally spoke, waving at Pomona as she walked by, covered from head to toe in mud and manure. Not a pleasant smell by any means but Elías was always happy to see her.

“You came to help him,” Elías turned to Severus, who gave a nonchalant shrug. He’d been expecting this, which meant that his face betrayed nothing. “Why?”

“Last moon was harrowing,” Severus replied, starting to walk down the narrow stairs, his back to Elías, and the Spaniard tried to read his body language. When he didn’t elaborate, Elías leaned forward, a slow smile appearing on his face.

“Sooo… you were worried about him?” he grinned.

“ _No_ ,” Severus quickly spluttered, eyes wide, turning to Elías with a horrified look, making the other professor start laughing into Severus’ back. “No, I – I was _not_ worried!”

“Oh, sorry, _sorry_ , you weren’t worried,” Elías smirked, pushing him into the potions classroom. “You were merely _concerned about his wellbeing_ , hmm?”

“ _Elías_ ,” Severus warned and the blond just laughed, giving Severus’ waist a squeeze before walking into his office, ready to get to Grimmauld Place.

“Do we have to take the metro again, or has the floo network been set up?” he asked, adjusting his wand holster with a hum. Severus sighed as he walked in as well, checking on a bubbling, small pewter cauldron on his desk – a cure for boils, it seemed, from the coloration and smell – before moving to extinguish the fire of the chimney.

“The network is complete,” Severus scowled. “Not without much trouble. The Black Family made sure that the entire Ministry of Magic would know about their damn chimneys.”

“Oh no,” Elías groaned, rubbing his head. “Does it mean that –”

“They monitor whomever goes in,” Severus nodded. “You and I may come – after all, the house belongs to Narcissa.”

Elías blinked, surprised seeing Severus take some floo powder. “It… does?”

“She was Walburga’s favorite,” the potioneer shrugged, hand tight around the powder, watching Elías with a slightly far-away look. “Narcissa was close to Regulus.”

“Oh,” Elías murmured, now a bit uncomfortable, eyes away from Severus’. “So since we’re friends with Narcissa…”

“We’re allowed to use the floo,” Severus nodded. “As can Andromeda. The rest cannot, unless we want to raise suspicion.”

“Well fuck,” Elías sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Why even set it up, then?”

“They sent the paperwork to Narcissa the moment the house was opened,” Severus replied and Elías realized right then that it hadn’t been just Sirius’ explicit permission for the Order of the Phoenix to use the house, it’d also been _Narcissa’s_. Or – or maybe she was just letting Sirius do whatever he pleased with his childhood home, that nightmare of a house. “In any case, we’re both allowed to use the network.”

With that, Severus stepped inside and threw the floo powder at his feet, engulfing him in green flames and Elías soon followed, closing his eyes as his body traveled to Eastern London –

“ _It's a street with a deal, and a taste… It's got claws, it's got me, it's got you..._ ”

Elías blinked, surprised to hear the haunting tones of _Sweet Thing; Reprise_ by David Bowie ringing through the house distantly, making his lips immediately curl up. He saw Severus’ tunic already disappearing down the hallway and Elías realized that they were in the dining room – or the meeting room now, he supposed.

Guitar and bass guitar followed and Elías let himself feel a little better, seeing Andromeda and Dumbledore sitting at the kitchen table with Kingsley, looking up as Elías and Severus entered. One of them, probably Andromeda from what Sirius had told him, had surely found some spirit in Sirius’ old records. Elías thought of this song, and the actual _Sweet Thing_ , two tracks before it. He thought of _will you see that I'm scared and I'm lonely? So I'll break up my room, and yawn and I run to the center of things_.

Had Sirius listened to this in 1974, at fifteen, looking at the ceiling of his bedroom? Had he thought of this album the way Elías had, thinking himself an Apollo, waiting to take an overdose for an ounce of recognition? Alienation and –

“Ah, Severus, Elías,” Dumbledore’s face changed into a welcoming smile, happy to have them both, it seemed. “Good to see the payment for the network will not be in vain.”

“Hello, Albus, Kingsley, Andromeda,” Elías greeted as Severus simply nodded, glancing at the table, where paperwork sat in a scattered pile. Elías, instead, took the bag with the food he’d brought for Remus – which he hadn’t been able to stomach – and began to place it on the ancient fridge. “What is all that?”

“Evidence,” Kingsley hummed, glancing at the food, eyes twinkling. “Is that breakfast?”

“Tried to give it to Remus but he just needed sleep,” Elías nodded, frowning. “Evidence of what?”

“Sirius,” Andromeda piped in, making a popping noise followed by a raspberry. She seemed in a chipper mood, grinning at Elías. “You might want to warm up all that food.”

“Are you guys hungry?” Elías asked, blinking.

“No,” Kingsley replied as the song finished and the beginning notes of _Rebel Rebel_ rang through. Elías felt it even before Kingsley nodded over at the kitchen door, heavy boots echoing, Severus tensing as Elías turned.

The riff is one he knows by heart – not just on guitar, but also on bass and even drums. It suits him, David Bowie somehow always does. Suits his black, worn combat boots, the ratty _Black Flag_ shirt with the graphics almost faded, ripped jeans and patches and a leather jacket to top it all off. Elías never knew Sirius would be one of those to wear fingerless gloves in the summer, though.

He looks _good_. His hair isn’t a ratty mess anymore, it’s properly cut and his face is clean-shaven except for some hair over his upper lip, around his chin and jawline. Elías stares, eyes wide, unable to believe that the man smirking at him, raising his arm to lean against the doorway, is the same Sirius Black whom he’d met half a year ago.

“ _Sirius_?” Elías wheezed.

“Hey, angel,” Sirius grinned, eyes bright, here and real and safe and –

Elías dropped the bag on the counter and practically flew to him, arms around his neck, Sirius’ laugh loud in the kitchen, almost as loud as Elías’ relieved heartbeat. The Spaniard clung to him, with both arms and legs and Sirius did not seem to mind, even welcoming it by wrapping his hands around the backs of Elías’ thighs, holding him up.

“ _You’ve got your mother, in a whirl! She’s not sure if you’re a boy or a girl!_ ”

“Oh my Gods, oh my Gods,” Elías breathed, holding onto him tightly, laughing hysterically. Was he crying? He might be crying. “ _Oh my Gods_.”

“If I’d known you’d be _this_ happy to see me, I would’ve come sooner,” Sirius snickered and Elías pulled back enough to grab his face, blue eyes on grey, laughing wetly.

“ _Hey babe, your hair's alright! Hey babe, let's go out tonight_!”

“Shut _up_ , you absolute fucking _asshole_ ,” he shook Sirius’ shoulders a little but Sirius still held onto him, Elías just on him like a koala. “How did you get here?! How are you doing, are – are you hurt?!” Elías lifted Sirius’ chin, inspecting him, touching his shoulders, his arms, feeling a bit of panic. “Are – are you hungry?! Are you alright –”

“Angel – _angel_ ,” Sirius interrupted, still grinning but a little bit softer. “M’alright, yeah? I arrived yesterday with Buckbeak, he’s on the roof garden. I am not hurt, no and I’ve been fed but I really wouldn’t mind eating anything you’ve cooked.”

Elías felt a knot in his chest unfurl, something he hadn’t even known had been there. His hands squeezed Sirius’ shoulders and he took a deep breath, nodding, unable to believe that he was _here_ , he was _safe_.

“I was worried,” Elías told him, a bit garbled.

“ _We like dancing and we look divine! You love bands when they're playing hard! You want more and you want it fast_!”

“Well, I’m here now, alright?” Sirius finally leaned down and Elías realized the position, quickly putting his feet down, face exploding into a furious blush as he realized that Andromeda was here. Kingsley and Dumbledore were here. _Fuck, Severus was here_. The thing he wanted the least was to turn around and face all of them but if he didn’t, it’d be a bigger deal than it was.

It wasn’t a crime to have missed a friend who’d been running from the magic coppers, right?

“ _Rebel rebel! You’ve torn your dress! Rebel rebel! Your face is a mess!_ ”

Andromeda looked _delighted_. Elías gave them all a little embarrassed smile and Dumbledore simply nodded with a smile of his own. Kingsley looked surprised but not adverse to the idea of Sirius and Elías being friends.

Severus’ face was something Elías didn’t want to think about, especially because Elías knew hatred when he saw it, and it was _directly_ pointed at Sirius. A burning, seething hatred that Elías wanted to go away – for Severus’ fucking sake.

It didn’t help at Sirius threw an arm around his shoulders, guiding him towards the bag he’d placed on the counter, looking into it with a hum.

“Ooooh, fresh tomatoes!” he grinned.

“Good morning, Sirius,” Andromeda laughed. “Sleep alright?”

“Better than I expected,” the wizard replied, glancing at Severus, the potioneer staring at the table. “What’s _he_ doing here?”

“He’s part of the Order of the Phoenix, idiot,” Elías bumped his boot against Sirius’, slipping from under his arm to sit on the table as well. “Eat whatever you want from there, s’all for this house.”

“Why is _he_ here?” Severus finally hissed out, glaring at Dumbledore, who watched the potions professor with a calm look.

“We received some intel about a raid happening in Ireland,” he explained slowly, Elías frowning. “The Ministry of Magic was very close to catching him. We thought it’d be wiser to have him in a safe house.”

“In _London_ ,” Severus said dryly. “Why not on the other side of the world?”

“Because we need him to catch Pettigrew,” Kingsley put in as Elías watched his colleague, seeing the way his back was _absurdly_ tense and how Sirius seemed to delight in it, leaning into Elías’ chair.

“We have _Lupin_!” Severus burst out.

“Remus wasn’t there to see Pettigrew at his worst,” Andromeda told Severus calmly.

“He will bring down this whole operation!” Severus snarled and Elías rubbed his face, groaning already as Sirius – endlessly amused, always so fucking amused – bit into a fucking tomato and pointed at Severus.

“Last time you were the one who brought it down, let me remind you,” he told Severus, unimpressed but the potioneer sneered at him.

“At least I could keep a secret,” he threw and Elías’ eyes shot opened, quickly standing, chair screeching as he stood between the two wizards.

It was a good thing that he did, because Sirius was ready for a fistfight and Severus seemed to be, as well, the two deeply glaring at each other. Elías felt his heartbeat in his ears, one of his palms against Sirius’ stomach and the other on Severus’ chest, keeping them apart. Dumbledore said nothing, eyes roaming the two wizards but Kingsley was surprised. Andromeda just rubbed her face, tics a bit faster.

“Please,” Elías said slowly, voice soft. The song had changed into _Rock n Roll With Me_ and Elías realized how much it was his least favorite song of Diamond Dogs. “We’re here to be _allies_. To help each other and prevent a war from happening. We can’t do that if you two start one.”

“He started it,” Sirius said and Andromeda rolled her eyes hard, making Elías envy her. He wished he could show just how stupid he thought this was.

“Children’s words, as always, Black,” Severus retorted.

“ _Guys_ ,” Elías insisted, shoving them away and while Severus stayed, Sirius pressed into the hand against his stomach. Elías realized just how thin he was, feeling the concaveness of it. “Please. Let’s – let’s just have a peaceful morning, alright? You can keep your own opinions about each other in your head. Like adults. Right?”

“Right,” Severus said through gritted teeth.

“ _Fine_ ,” Sirius huffed, like a dog letting someone go but only because he was chained to the fence. Elías relaxed a little bit, hands falling down and he took a deep breath as Severus sat down with his lips pursed as Sirius turned away, rummaging the bag of food Elías had brought.

“Well,” Kingsley gave a little nervous laugh. “Now that _that_ is over, we need to prepare for today’s meeting. Explain the situation with Sirius and make sure everyone understands that he cannot leave, nor can anyone know that he is here.”

“Nobody?” Elías asked and everyone glanced at him, surprised at his sad eyes. “I mean… does Narcissa know he’s here?”

“She knows he’s coming, just not when,” Dumbledore replied. “And perhaps it’d be better, that way.”

“I’d say that’s stupid, but that’s not going to change anything,” Elías crossed his arms and sat down once more, leaning back against the chair. “But there are certain people that should know he’s here and safe –”

“Harry cannot know,” Dumbledore said firmly.

“Yeah, no, fuck that,” Elías replied, making Sirius choke where he stood, Andromeda covering a snort with a quick tic. “My kid’s gonna know that his godfather’s doing alright. And Harry _will_ come here to see him.”

“Then perhaps I should revoke your right to the Order’s meetings,” Dumbledore threw at him, ever so calmly, making Elías’ eyebrows rise, unimpressed.

“Fine by me, Albus,” he shrugged. “I’ll learn it all one way or another. But you won’t learn anything from me. And might I remind you – it’s _his_ house,” he pointed a thumb at Sirius, who had put together a sandwich with Elías’ food and was currently leaning against the counter, chewing happily. “So he gets to say who comes in and out.”

“Yep,” Sirius said after he swallowed. “Angel’s got entry. And so does my godson.”

“Do you both realize that I am trying to look out for the Order’s best interests?” Dumbledore asked, looking as if he could reprimand Elías and Sirius out of school and before Elías could talk, Sirius was snorting.

“Yeah, cause Harry’s going to tell anyone willy-nilly about me. Molly will talk with Arthur, meaning that her kids are going to find out some way or another. Harry is going to find out and _then_ be pretty angry with us because we kept it from him.”

“I’ve got an honesty policy with him because he’s been kept in the dark about stupid shit for a long time,” Elías pointed out, eyes narrowed at Dumbledore. “I made a promise when I adopted him and I do not break promises, Albus.”

The Headmaster sighed deeply, giving Sirius and Elías his biggest _I’m-disappointed-in-you_ look but the two were absolutely immune to it. Perhaps in another time, they would’ve felt a little bit bad but things had changed. The circumstances were different. Sirius and Elías weren’t fourteen anymore, they were adults, and the era of Dumbledore worship was long gone. The man was flawed, more than he let on, and they knew it.

“Very well,” he finally said and Elías gave a grin, Sirius looking actually happy. “But Harry must not be around during meetings.”

“ _That_ is fair,” Elías nodded, agreeing just as the front doors of the house opened, Tonks’ and Charlie’s voice coming in and Sirius smiled widely, quickly putting the rest of his sandwich away to go and greet his cousin, a scream of Sirius’ name following.

Elías smiled, feeling relaxed, anxiety easing away as he saw through the door the way Tonks hugged Sirius, Charlie greeting him with a toothy grin. When he turned to Severus, though, he felt his happiness slip away – Severus didn’t even look angry now, he looked _exhausted_. His shoulders were hunched and he looked as if Sirius had sapped away his energy. Elías knew that things were complicated and that they’d nearly killed each other the last time they were in the same room but…

“Hey,” Elías nudged him but Severus didn’t look, simply sighing. Elías pursed his lips and stood. “Alright – _alright_ , come with me.”

“Elías –”

“ _Please_ ,” he begged quietly while everyone was distracted with more arrivals.

Severus seemed to debate with himself for a moment, eyes stuck to the wall, trying to calm down before he finally stood slowly and Elías looked at the entrance before pushing them both into the little nook that was the pantry. He knew that small spaces calmed him down and Elías turned on the light, closing the door for a moment, watching Severus as he looked over his shoulder, avoiding his gaze. That was fine.

“Talk to me,” Elías asked softly. “I know that this is hard but –”

“Why does he call you _angel_?”

Elías paused, not expecting that question, watching the scowl in Severus’ face before he sighed deeply.

“It’s a joke,” he explained. “I uh, saved him when he was sick in the woods and he joked that like – oh, you must be an angel or something! And it just…” Elías swallowed. “It just stuck. It’s just a joke, Sev.”

“You two seem particularly cozy, for a joke,” Severus threw and he probably meant for it to be mean and demeaning but he sounded _pathetically sad_. Elías simply rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing.

“I’m not doing this with you,” he told Severus firmly, eyes hard. “I’m allowed to be friends with him. I saved his life, I helped him recover, we’ve a lot in common –”

“You’ve _nothing_ in common,” Severus stepped forward, eyes blazing, hand on Elías’ arm and Elías was surprised to hear the conviction in his voice. “You are _nothing alike!_ ”

“ _Severus_ ,” Elías whispered, surprised, eyes on his, hand quickly moving to his shoulder. “Sev, we _do_. And I understand that you’ve a history with him, I call him out on his bullshit, too, you know? I don’t think he’s _perfect_ or anything but a lot of the flaws I see in him are like mine –”

“No, _no_ , you _don’t_ understand,” Severus’ face crisped, shaking his head. “You are _not_ like him, Elías. What do you share? Music taste? Having a bit family? That is _all_ he’s got with you,” he hissed. “He’s selfish, he’s conceited, egocentric, he’s a _narcissist_ , Elías! He does whatever he wants, damn the consequences –”

“And don’t _I_ do that?” Elías threw back, surprised that Severus was so willing to dismiss Elías’ impetuous nature.

“You don’t do it for _yourself_!” Severus insisted, his other hand moving to Elías’ wrist, squeezing gently, familiar and close and Elías had never seen him _this_ passionate about anything. Truly, this was so much emotion – all brought out by Sirius. There was something deeper there, lodged inside Severus, about Sirius Black. “You would never betray your friends! Or try to get someone killed just because you don’t like them! You – you don’t – you’re a _good brother_ ,” he told Elías, who stood there with a dumbfounded face. “You don’t abandon people, you don’t –”

“But I do, Sev,” Elías cut in, so very gently, his hands pushing at Severus’ chest as he realized the potioneer was pushing him against the door, almost hip-to-hip. Severus took a step back, as if realizing so, too, looking striken at his loss of control. “Sev, I’m very sorry, but I’ve met a different Sirius than the one you know. Not because he’s inherently _different_ , but because we don’t have the history you do. And I get that he hurt you, and that he’s maybe not the greatest person. I know that, I acknowledge that. But you cannot point out flaws in someone that shine just the same in me.”

“You’re not like _him_ ,” Severus told him, desperately.

Elías shrugged, “Maybe. Or maybe you two would get along if you tried.”

Severus recoiled, as if slapped, and Elías gave him a sad look, “It’s understandable if you don’t want to. No one would blame you, Sev. Just… try not to actively kill each other.”

“It’s because he’s charming, isn’t it?” Severus suddenly blurted out and Elías stared, taken by surprise, seeing insecurity and inadequacy shine in his eyes and Elías began to shake his head. “He’s _handsome_. And he –”

“You’re accusing me of fancying him?” Elías asked, incredulous.

“Don’t you?” Severus’ face soured.

“Grow _up_ ,” Elías threw, blood boiling as he pushed a single finger against his chest. “You fucking _asshole_ , you _always_ do this. You did it with Remus and you’ll do it with Sirius, hmm? You’ll try and make me feel embarrassed or inadequate or you’ll accuse me or only being interested for fucking – romantic purposes. I will _not_ be a member of your pity party and I will _not_ let you mock my sympathy and friendship with Sirius.”

“He’s a danger to himself and to others,” Severus snapped at him.

“Well, so am I!” Elías replied, making Severus’ jaw click shut. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a fucking seer on crack! I was literally dragged into the ocean! I sucker punched a Deatheater!”

“Those are just dangers to yourself!” Severus retorted, also raising his voice. “Black is different! Black doesn’t care about whom it affects!”

“Yes, he does!” Elías groaned. “Oh my _Gods_ , it does!”

“You don’t know him like _I_ do!”

“Well, you don’t know him like _I_ do!”

“Well, maybe you should reconsider whom you choose, Elías! It’s either me or –”

The door of the pantry opened and light flooded in, making Elías and Severus turn to it, caught in the middle of their argument, finding Molly, of all people, on the other side. Immediately, Severus’ jaw clicks shut and Elías looks away, the two professors embarrassed while she steps aside and opens the pantry door wider.

“I’d like you both to step out, please,” she said and the two obeyed, looking around and gratefully finding no one else around. There were people milling about on the first floor, though, and Elías was grateful that they’d use the bigger dining room as a meeting room. It meant that nobody had heard their argument – probably. “Did you get it out of your systems?” Molly asked, pointedly looking at Severus, who hastily looked away.

“We’re sorry, Molly,” Elías quickly said, bringing her attention to him. “As you’ve probably seen, Sirius is here –”

“Yes, he is,” she pursed her lips and Elías went quiet, confused as to why she looked… angry. “Are you two done arguing about it?”

“Yes,” Severus said, immediately moving out of the kitchen and Elías called his name but he was ignored, making Elías’ shoulders hunch a little. He didn’t feel angry anymore – he just felt _bad._

“Meeting is about to start,” Molly told him, sounding softer and Elías wished he knew what was going through her mind, watching the matron of the Weasley’s as she patted his arm. “It’ll be a long one. Come on, lad.”

 _Big Brother_ was the last song that played before the meeting began.

* * *

Harry was home when Elías came back, a mess of conflicted feelings about Severus and Sirius and their complex relationship. Severus had left the moment the meeting was over and Elías hadn’t had the chance to even try and talk to him. He felt like he’d fucked up, really, and Sirius had been so busy talking to Emme and all the others…

Well, no matter. Elías was here to deliver good news and he heard Harry and his father before he saw them, looking out to the garden. Pa and Harry were crowded around something on the garden table, under the protective shade of the open parasol that Elías had bought in the most obnoxious orange to ever exist. Harry was laughing, his voice reaching here and Elías felt himself relax, muscles unwinding, hands unclenching.

Whatever was happening with Severus would be solved. Elías would just need to talk to him and let each other blow some steam off, is all.

“Hey!” he greeted as he opened the backdoor and when pa and Harry turned, Elías saw a LEGO Deathstar, making him gasp. “What?!”

“We watched Star Wars today!” Harry told Elías, the Slytherin walking over to the two of them. “Then we went to the city to eat and um, Juan and I saw the LEGO store and…”

“No, no, not your fault,” Elías told Harry, ruffling his hair. It was thick and healthy with seasalt and Elías smiled, an arm falling around his shoulders before he nudged his father. “ _He_ was just looking for an excuse to buy it.”

“I have _no idea_ what you’re talking about,” Juan stated primly, making Harry laugh before he whispered to Elías.

“I know, he was so excited, but Lourdes told him that it had to be for me,” Harry was still grinning, though, some sweat shining on his forehead and he’s pulled his hair back, scar on display, looking comfortable with that. Elías had always seen him hastily cover it up and he felt a swell of pride in him.

“Did you guys eat lunch, then?” Elías asked as he gently pet Harry’s hair, the boy not minding at all and even leaning a bit against him. The heat of San Fernando was so different from the cold and stormy summer day in London, Elías was a bit overwhelmed but he didn’t push Harry away.

“Yes, we did,” pa smiled, leaning back on his chair and drinking from a cool pitcher of lemon water that Elías always chose to save on the fridge. “Harry here told me all about his first lessons.”

“He’s really enjoying them!” Elías grinned, taking a seat.

“Yes! They’re just – so good! I love them! It – it takes a bit to understand because of the instructor’s accent but they put me in the class with all the others that speak English,” Harry explained. “I’m learning all the terms in Spanish, though.”

“Are you making friends?” Elías asked him, arms crossed.

“Well… I mean, there are some guys my age, but they’re not – I don’t want to just…” Harry gestured awkwardly and both Juan and Elías nodded at the same time, understanding. “Lourdes says I should just go for it.”

“Figures she’s say that,” Juan snorted and Elías laughed.

“Where is she, by the way?” Elías asked.

“Back in Brussels – Carmen had a little emergency and she offered to help,” Juan eyed Elías, who pursed his lips slowly. Surely not that fuckwad of a soon-to-be ex-husband, right? He didn’t want to ask in front of Harry, so he pushed it aside for later. “How did this morning go?”

“Pretty well,” Elías smiled, nudging Harry, the boy turning to him. “I got a surprise for you, kiddo.”

“You do?” he blinked, already grinning.

“Yep,” Elías pushed his hair back, trying to get the heat out of his face, already feeling sweat build up. “In about…” he lifted his wrist, looking at his watch. “An hour? Or so? We’re leaving. I ain’t telling you where, you’ll eventually know.”

“Oh – _oh_! Alright, yes, alright!” he quickly stood. “I – I still have salt on me, can I go shower?”

“Go,” Elías laughed, watching him run off before he turned to his father, who was going through LEGO pieces to find the right one. Elías sighed deeply, pouring himself a glass of water and mumbling, “What did he do?”

“He wants custody of Dani.”

Elías nearly spit out his water, choking on it, eyes wide, “T-the _gambling piece of shit_ wants custody?!”

“Your mother said I should stay with Harry so I don’t go to Brussels and strangle him with my own bare hands,” Juan muttered, lips pursed, looking furious.

“Fucking – _Christ_ ,” Elías pulled a face. “How – how is Carmen?”

“Doing bad, obviously. Paco came to pick her up, she’s with him. So is Dani,” Juan explained, leaning back on his chair and leaving the pieces alone. “Alejandra is with her father.”

“Okay,” Elías sighed deeply, nodding, rubbing the back of his neck. “Does she need to use El Rompido?”

“She can’t leave Belgium, not with Dani,” Juan pointed out with a grunt and Elías’ fingers twitched, thinking very violent thoughts for a second before he relaxed, letting out yet another sigh. “So… Paco is there.”

“Well fuck,” Elías’ upper lip curled a bit with disgust at the situation.

“It just – it is what it is, can’t be helped,” Juan shrugged, rubbing his face. “Being with Harry helped, though. That boy is good, son. He’s _good_.”

“I know,” Elías said softly, letting out a sigh. “He’s kind and caring and responsible. Oh!” he sat up a bit on his chair. “His godfather is here, Sirius – well, not _here_ but uh, in London.”

Juan blinked, sitting up on his chair as well, “He is?”

“Yeah,” Elías let out a laugh. “Bit of uh – hiding, but he’s there under Dumbledore’s protection. Can’t be found, since his cousin – fucking rich people, influential name – is also hiding him. So he’s safe. And Harry can see him until we find Pettigrew.”

“That’s…” Juan blew out a breath, frowning. “Don’t – don’t get into _trouble_ now, alright? That’s a lot of illegal shit, Eli.”

“I know but – well, should anything happen, all eyes will be on Dumbledore, at least,” Elías mumbled.

“Huh, alright,” he didn’t look very convinced but he left it alone, his big hand coming to rest over Elías’. The Slytherin looked at it for a moment before turning his own hand, holding his father’s and… it was all okay, suddenly. No matter what happened, he knew that things would be alright. “Are you okay?”

“Just tired,” Elías confessed quietly. “Long meeting. Lots of things happening.”

“I’d guessed,” his father pat his hand, understanding. “Any other news?”

“No, not really,” Elías rubbed at his stubble, shrugging. “Just same old. And you, pa? You doing okay?”

“I’ll be alright,” he promised, giving Elías an encouraging smile, making Elías feel a thousand times better immediately. Despite the heat and the sweat and the awkward positioning of their chairs, Elías leaned over and gave him a tight hug, Juan’s arms coming around him, his heart slowing down and everything fluttering in his stomach settling down. “Come on, now, it’s fucking _hot_ ,” his father shoved him back, making Elías almost fall to the grass, laughing. “Let’s finish the Deathstar!”

* * *

Harry stumbled into number 12 Grimmauld Place an hour later and Elías followed him, quickly placing a hand on his shoulder, laughing as Harry wrinkled his nose immediately at the portrait of Orion Black facing the chimney.

“Are we in another Malfoy mansion?” he asked, turning to Elías, who gave another laugh. There was no music playing now and no people around. Sirius was probably alone, so it was a good thing that Elías had a few loaded bags of groceries, already thinking of the man’s wellbeing and sanity.

“Not exactly,” Elías replied, walking out and pushing the door open, leading to the kitchen. It was dark, without a single soul in it and Elías sighed, waving his wand to turn some lights on the chandelier above. Harry looked up at it, then glanced around the kitchen while Elías began to fill the fridge and the cupboards, seeing _some_ basic food. Probably Dumbledore, but canned food was _no way to live_.

“This is very old…” Harry pointed out quietly.

“Yep. It sure is,” Elías hummed as he reached up on his tiptoes, trying to place some cereal inside. They’d brought some indulgent food, because Sirius also deserved to have sugary breakfast. “Severus actually told me the other day that it was built a _long_ time ago, but the last family that lived here bought it and turned it into… well, all of this.”

“What family?” Harry asked just as Elías heard cursing upstairs, Harry’s eyes widening. “Wait – wait, is that –”

“The damn bell is broken!” Sirius called, his boots thundering down the stairs, making Elías sigh and Harry freeze. “Expensive bloody thing and it can’t even do its work. I heard it when you came this morning with Snape, why the hell –”

“ _SIRIUS!_ ”

Harry barreled into the Gryffindor, Sirius nearly toppling over and Elías let out a chuckle as Harry sat up, his grin wild, Sirius’ smile just as big before he enveloped Harry in a hug.

“Sirius, _Sirius!_ ” Harry cheered, arms around his waist. “Merlin! What are you doing here?!”

“Couldn’t miss your birthday, right?” Sirius beamed and Elías felt his anxiety melt away as Harry let out a noise of _utter happiness_ , hugging him tight again, Sirius’ hand petting his thick, still wet hair. “There, lad. I’m here now. I’m right here.”

Elías said nothing and simply stocked the kitchen, not wanting to interrupt or say anything as the two adults heard Harry cry for a few minutes – quiet, not loud at all, not something slobbery and all over the place like Elías nearly was when he saw Sirius as well.

The two whispered back and forth and Elías just felt himself love Harry with every word.

“You came back –”

“I promised I would, Harry.”

“Yes but – but nobody – nobody _keeps_ their promises a-and –”

“Well _I_ do. And so does Remus and Elías, alright? We’re all here, we’re not going away.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

Elías turned to see Harry burying his face in Sirius’ chest, gripping his worn leather jacket tight and Sirius looked almost as emotional as his godson, his hand buried in Harry’s curls. When his steel grey’s met Elías’ blues, he gave him a little smile, which Elías returned.

“Come on,” Elías laughed softly, moving to the two of them. “That carpet has Gods know what on it. If you want to sit down, do it at the table, yes? Hop hop, up up.”

He offered a hand to Sirius, who grasped it and easily stood, Harry as well, who looked at Sirius as if he truly was a star in the sky. It… didn’t make Elías feel good, and not out of jealousy, but out of precaution, knowing that Sirius wasn’t stable at the moment and still had a lot of things to work on, especially regarding other Slytherins and his own complex feelings with Severus.

“Are – are we staying for dinner?” Harry asked, turning to Elías, who nodded and immediately, Harry’s entire face lit up. “Is this a one time thing – is –”

“I’m staying until Pettigrew’s caught, kid,” Sirius told him and Harry looked _stunned_ on the spot, as if he couldn’t believe that he got to see and talk to his godfather all summer. “So… well, I get to spend the rest of the summer with you, whenever you want.”

“Not during meetings,” Elías interjected, which made Harry pout and Sirius laugh. “But yes – you can come see him, hmm? But you can’t tell –”

“I know! I know he’s – I know,” Harry interrupted, looking very serious. “I won’t tell.”

“Then go sit down,” Elías directed the both of them, Sirius’ arm moving around Harry’s shoulder. “I’ll make something to eat and we can all talk, sounds good?”

“It sounds _wonderful_ ,” Harry’s grin was blinding and alright, maybe Elías had a problem to solve with Severus but seeing the two Gryffindors sit at the table and begin to excitedly talk, so much affection coming from the two of them… it felt good. Like one less problem, one less thing to worry about.

Something that was actually going right.


	18. The Hanging Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gasp!!!! Me, uploading two days later?! More likely than you think.
> 
> Chapter Warnings:  
> \- Discussion of LGBT+ labels, including gatekeeping  
> \- Discussion of misogyny  
> \- Mention of dysphoria and transphobia  
> \- Drowning imagery  
> \- Mention of cults  
> \- Mention of bigotry (towards werewolves)  
> 

By the time Harry had fallen asleep that night, Elías was utterly exhausted. The kid was in one of the cleaned rooms, the one next to Sirius that had been designated for guests, once upon a time. He and Sirius had spoken there for a few hours while Elías made sure that Buckbeak ate his fill, even grooming the hippogriff the best he could.

“Let me help,” Sirius said, once he was done upstairs with Harry, nudging him a little on the kitchen as Elías washed the plates to clear his mind.

“No comment as to why I don’t use magic?” Elías asked, surprised, moving aside and just handing him a sponge.

“Nah,” Sirius had shed his leather jacket, now in just comfortable jeans and shirt. His left soft had a hole in it and it’d been driving Elías a bit crazy all evening. “I also do plates to try and focus sometimes. It helps, doing a task with my hands.”

“Yeah,” Elías murmured, watching the suds on his fingers. “How’s Harry?”

“Alright,” Sirius hummed, voice as soft as Elías’. “I mean, the – the lad’s had his fair share of uncaring adults. He tells me that he’s doing well in therapy but it’s going to take a long time, to be honest.”

“I know,” Elías said sadly, sighing. “He’s coping but – he’s just thirteen, you know?”

“Merlin,” Sirius laughed a little. “I remember when I was thirteen. What a tosser.”

“We were all assholes when we were thirteen,” Elías laughed as well, passing the plate to Sirius, who began to dry it. It was nice.

“Mmm, not Remus,” Sirius replied and Elías felt his stomach grow a bit warm, giving Sirius a small smile, the man looking softly at the wet rag in his hands. “He uh… he was the nicest, in our entire year. House, even. No sweeter Gryffindor.”

“And you’d know that first hand, hmm?” Elías teased, hip-checking him, Sirius’ cheeks darkening a bit, trying to quickly shrug it off.

“Everyone knew! All the girls had a crush on him,” he defended, his grin wide, shaking his head. “Funniest thing when he came out, it was as if all the women at Hogwarts were mourning!”

Elías felt his stomach churn a little, wanting to point out how cis women’s desires weren’t more important than Remus’ journey to self-discovery, to the things that made him happy. Remus’ identity wasn’t something to be mourned, _ever_.

“Those girls should’ve been happy for him,” Elías said, perhaps somewhat bitter but too many cis women had told him what to be to even care. “He’s happier, knowing what he is.”

“Yeah, he is, I didn’t say otherwise,” Sirius replied softly, eyes on Elías, frowning. “Sorry, did I –”

“No, no,” Elías shook his head. “Sorry. I’m just tired today, is all?”

“That’s fair,” Sirius gave a lopsided smile. “Did you also get people mourning your sexuality? ‘Cause uh, I know you’re not straight. Gay, too?”

“No, no,” Elías shook his head. “Uh – not gay, just… queer.”

“Bi?” Sirius insisted and Elías sighed.

“No labels. Just – just queer for me,” he gave Sirius the next plate, the man looking confused.

“Do you like women?” he questioned.

“Yeah, I do,” Elías sighed deeply. “But I don’t – dating women is weird.”

“Huh,” Sirius blinked, seemingly interested. “How so?”

“I’ve got a weird relationship with womanhood,” Elías retorted, not wanting to say it, not wanting – coming out was always so _weird_. And he didn’t want Sirius to change the way he spoke to Elías, the way he treated him. It made him feel bad but – but he didn’t want people to know. It was something so personal, so _raw_ to him. Remus knew because he’d seen, unfortunately, just like Tonks. And his family knew. And Severus knew because he’d been Elías as a kid. But Sirius –

“That… sounds a bit misogynistic,” Sirius dared to say slowly.

“I’m an androgynous queer man,” Elías tried to explain, wincing. “I know it can come across that way but trust me, I – I was perceived as a woman for a long time? And I find refuge in my own brand of masculinity. People tried to – I mean, cisgender women have policed my identity and my being, my clothes, the way I present for a long time. Dating men to me is just, I dunno, easier? I know how queer men work, I _am_ one.”

“…still sounds mildly misogynistic,” Sirius snorted and Elías’ jaw clicked. “I mean, you don’t have to be feminine. You just have to be you. And you come across as _very_ feminine either way so –”

Elías nearly broke a plate, putting it down and taking a deep breath, Sirius quickly shutting up at that.

“Yeah, no,” Elías shook his head, turning to him. “I’m not feminine.”

“You wear makeup,” Sirius retorted. “And a lot of jewelry –”

“Makeup isn’t gendered,” Elías threw back, feeling absolutely wrecked in this kitchen, dysphoria washing over him. “Jewelry is for anyone. I am not comfortable with you calling me feminine, Sirius –”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a feminine bi bloke –”

“I’m not _bisexual_ ,” Elías snapped, nearly snarling. “I’m not _feminine_. Could you _stop_?”

Sirius looked peeved, glaring back, “What’s wrong with being bi, huh? Or feminine?”

“ _Nothing_!” Elías replied, incredulous, giving out a loud laugh. “Oh my Gods, nothing! It’s just not for me! Those are not my labels! I’m not comfortable with them!”

“But if you like men _and_ women, you’re bi! That’s just how it is!” Sirius burst out, putting the rag aside. “If you’re biphobic –”

“I am _so close to breaking your nose_ ,” Elías warned, feeling his fight or flight instinct kick in. “I’ve no fucking problem with bi people, I just don’t label myself _bi_. And I don’t use feminine on myself! I do not want those labels, I don’t care if others use them! Use them yourself, be bi and feminine all you want but I’m not –”

“But that’s what you _are_ ,” Sirius cut in.

“You don’t _know me_ ,” Elías finally said, making Sirius sigh deeply. “You don’t know me or my history with labels. You don’t know how I think, how I feel or what I’ve gone through. You don’t get to put words I do not want on _me_. Do you understand?”

“No,” Sirius said, at the very least being honest.

“Then fucking respect that I don’t want them, you dick,” Elías walked away, needing to calm down but as he was about to leave the kitchen, they heard the Floo Bell go off, making Elías tense up. Who could it be at this hour? Severus or Andromeda or –

“Hello?” they both heard Remus’ voice and Elías glanced at Sirius for a moment, the two meeting each other’s eyes for a second before they decided, unanimously and wordlessly, that for Remus’ and Harry’s sake, this argument hadn’t happened. “Uh… is anyone here?”

“Remus!” Elías rushed to the dining room, seeing the man tiredly lean against the chimney and Elías was quickly pulling his arm around his shoulders. “Are you okay?” he frowned.

“Yes, I just –” Remus gave a little nervous laugh, swallowing. “My uh… apartment building flooded.”

Elías blinked, looking down to see a little suitcase next to Remus’ feet and Elías felt worry swallow him, “Are – did you – were you able to grab all your belongings? Is your house okay?”

“Not a house, not – it was just a room, you know but – well, I asked Narcissa and she said I could stay here if anything happened –”

“Of course you’re welcome here, Moony,” Sirius said, leaning against the doorway and Remus’ eyes shot up to Sirius, breath hitching, nearly falling over and Elías held him up, giving a little laugh.

“Padfoot?” Remus breathed, stunned. “What…?”

“It’s a long story,” Sirius replied, walking forward to Remus but before Elías could even help the werewolf, he threw himself at Sirius, arms around him, Sirius quickly holding him up. “Moony –”

“I’m just glad you’re safe, I’m glad you’re _here_ ,” the man rasped out and Sirius’ eyes fell shut, almost seeming to curse to himself for a second. Then he embraced Remus tightly, breathing out harsh. “Can – could I stay –”

“As much as you need to, Moony,” Sirius assured in a whisper, pulling back and pressing their forehead together, Elías suddenly realizing just how much of third wheel he was being. He quickly took Remus’ suitcase, too light for what he’d expected and slid out of the dining room before the two other men could notice.

Upstairs, at the upper floor where the bedrooms are, he finds Harry still fast asleep and Elías hesitates as to where he should put Remus’ suitcase. It’s presumptuous to leave it in Sirius’ bedroom, right? That’d be _too much_. That’s be too on the nose. Remus might even strangle him but there were very little rooms available for Remus to stay so –

It’d be _fine_ , wouldn’t it? Elías moved to the bedroom he’d claimed, another guest one, and he’d spent a lot of time cleaning it up but Remus had to rest. He quickly opened the door and left it ajar so Remus would see his suitcase, walking out and trying to see where to sleep, himself.

It was a bit dark and he had through that all the doors in the right of the hallway were guest rooms, he really had. The plaque didn’t shine, didn’t register in his mind, so very busy with his fight with Sirius, going back around to the fight with Severus and having Remus here as well, the jealousy and sadness of seeing them both –

Elías opened the bedroom door without trouble, the creak of it loud and when Elías looked inside, he froze.

The figure inside the bedroom looked from his hand to Elías, skin pale, lips blue, grey eyes bloodshot. There was water at his feet, soaking Elías’ shoes, starting to flood the hallway but Elías couldn’t move, and when Regulus opened his mouth, more water came out in a rush, green. Putrid. A white hand came out from it and gripped Rejgulus’ ankle.

“ _Don’t tell my brother_ ,” he breathed and Elías would’ve screamed if water didn’t swallow him up.

It burned his lungs immediately, hands rushing to grip over his windpipe, water flooding his mouth, nose, throat, ears, _everywhere_ , it was everywhere and Elías tried to scream as he opened his eyes and realized he was upside down, falling into the depths head-on, where a mass of white was moving in a blur on top of –

Elías tried to scream his name, reach out, fear engulfing him as red began to swim across his vision but his lungs were collapsing and Regulus was gone and the water was no longer green, it was a deep familiar blue and there were jellyfish everywhere and there was a _gate_ –

“ELÍAS!”

Choking, eyes shooting wide open, Elías breathed in before vomiting water all over the floor, coughing wildly, trying to get a lungful of air into him. He was on all fours, soaked to the bone, head spinning and he could feel hands gripping back his hair, rubbing his back, Harry’s panicked voice.

“What happened?! Why’s he covered in water?!”

“Harry, go to your room –”

“What _happened?!_ ”

“I don’t know, Harry!”

“Eli, breathe,” Remus whispered to him and Elías sobbed, trying not to let panic swell, breath rattling inside his cheek before he heaved and –

“Oh, fucking _hell_ ,” Sirius gagged as a small, tiny little moon jellyfish splattered across the floorboards, still twitching, making Elías’ shoulders shake and he ended up just curling into a ball on the floor, whimpering, trying to keep his terrified mind quiet. “What the fuck –”

“I’m calling Severus,” Remus said, moving away from Elías, whose blood was roaring in his ears, eyes wide, fixed on that jellyfish. It shone, in the dark. Bioluminescent. “Stay with him – Harry, go to your _room_ , Elías wouldn’t want you to see him like this.”

“Just tell me if –”

“We will, kid, don’t worry,” Sirius whispered to him and Elías heard then Remus’ hurried steps down the stairs. The door shutting.

Sirius’ rough hands cupped Elías’ face and he dizzily made out the shape of Sirius’ eyes in the darkness. It almost felt like he was still underwater and he remembered Regulus’ pale face, waterlogged clothes, the bloating, the cadaver –

“Shhh, shh, it’s alright,” Sirius whispered, pulling Elías closer, his other hand gripping Elías’ shoulder and he was warm, while Elías was _freezing_. “I don’t know what the hell happened, what – did you trigger a curse, a trap?”

Elías shook his head, choosing instead to bury his face on Sirius’ shoulder, eyes wide so he wouldn’t close them and see Sirius’ brother drowning. It felt surreal, to think about – that Elías _knew_ what had happened to Regulus, when so many others had tried to find out. How could he tell Sirius? Or Severus? _Narcissa_?

“It’s gonna be alright, angel,” Sirius assured softly, sighing. “If I had a wand, I’d warm you up, _bollocks_ , come here –”

The Gryffindor held Elías close, rubbing his back and Elías appreciated the tightness of the hug, bringing him back down to earth. His throat was on _fire_ , and his lungs burned as well, shaking hard as he gripped Sirius’ shirt.

“I’m sorry about – before, before Remus came,” Sirius began to babble, Elías’ head spinning too much to care about that stupid fight. “I didn’t – you’re _right_ , I wasn’t – if you don’t like a label, you shouldn’t wear it, I – I should know that, coming from where I come so – I’m sorry, alright? I was a right twat –”

“ _Please-e_ ,” Elías rasped out, hand moving to grip his jaw, giving out a wheezy laugh. “Shut the f-fuck up, a-asshole. I forg-give you-u…”

“Oh thank fuck,” Sirius hugged him tighter and Elías heaved some more seawater onto Sirius’ shoulder, who winced. “Sorry.”

“ _Guh_ ,” Elías choked.

“Let’s put you on a bed, come on, lay down somewhere comfortable,” Sirius murmured, standing, helping Elías up and blue eyes moved to the jellyfish, still lighting up, still alive despite… just lying there. He wanted to grind it under his heel and before Sirius could react, he’d lifted a wet, shaky foot and stomped on the jellyfish. He nearly fell over but Sirius helped him stand, hand against Elías’ chest. “Was… that necessary?”

“F-felt good,” he simply said, voice shot.

Sirius helped him into his own room, the nearest one, and Elías fell onto the bed on his side with a groan. His stomach felt awful and he almost wanted to throw up again. Every breath was agonizing, salt burning inside his lungs and there was anxiety already building up around telling Sirius that he’d Seen his _brother_.

“If I could use your wand, I’d dry you,” Sirius told him softly and Elías nodded, coughing hard. “Ah, bollocks, I – hold on.”

Sirius stood, squeezing Elías’ shoulder before moving onto the bathroom connected to his bedroom. Elías still felt like his head was full of cotton, vision blurry, watching the onslaught of red and gold before his eyes settled on a picture on his nightstand, with Dorcas and Sirius and Mary in it. Elías watched it, thinking of a picture similar to this on Severus’ nightstand, with Regulus and Pippa, his stomach dropping as he thought again of telling Severus and Sirius of this. His eyes watered, trying not to think of Regulus’ face, hands covering his shameful face as he curled up further. Why did he have to See that? Why did that happen? And why did his Sights now put him in danger, put him in the situation? Would it be like this from now on?

“Here! Okay, here, angel, c’mon,” Sirius came back around the bed as Elías tried his damnest not to make a sound, eyes wide against the pillows, lung rattling with every breath. “Angel?”

Elías shook his head, swallowing, not wanting to speak at all and there was a moment of silence before Elías finally felt Sirius press a soft towel against his wet face, starting to dry him up. The gesture was so tender, so gentle that Elías’ tears spilled again and he finally closed his eyes, hand moving to grip Sirius’ wrist tight – maybe tight enough to hurt but Sirius did not complain, simply trying to dry Elías.

“It was one of your freaky visions, wasn’t it?” Sirius asked quietly and Elías nodded, a strangled sound leaving him. “But… not like they normally are, right? I mean, you don’t… nearly _drown_ in your visions, right?”

“I don’t,” Elías rasped, wincing. “I… I Saw s-something, Siriu-us…”

The Gryffindor paused, frowning at him just as hurried steps came up the stairs, two pairs, Elías’ hand trembling as he pushed his wet hair back, seeing _so much blood_ in the water, starting to hyperventilate.

“Angel, what did you See?” Sirius asked quietly, now looking alarmed.

“ELÍAS!”

The door opened and Severus and Remus walked in, the former with a wild look as he lifted his wand, rushing to the bed and Elías remembered how he’d practically ran away from him just a few hours ago, croaking out, “Sev, m’sorry –”

“Shut up, _be quiet_ ,” Severus snapped, kneeling by the bed and pressing his wand against Elías’ chest. Immediately, Elías’ hand shot out to slam against the wall and he turned his body down to heave out more water, another jellyfish and some seaweed onto the floor, sobbing hard, pain wracking through his body. “Not yet, not _yet_ , just another one–”

Severus’ hand pressed against the back of his neck, comforting, Sirius’ own hand on Elías’ knee and after two more jellyfish and another mouthful of greenish water, Elías could finally _breathe_. He pressed his forehead to Severus’ collarbones, panting hard, looking at the pristine wooden buttons of his tunic and feeling gratefulness and elation swallow him up.

“Y-you came,” he wheezed out and Severus sighed deeply, sounding almost exasperated.

“Of course I came,” the potioneer scowled, hand squeezing Elías’ neck gently before rubbing his back, making Elías want to just bawl his eyes out. “Can you breathe?”

Elías nodded, sniffling, “Y-yeah. Much – much b-better.”

“Good,” Severus waved his wand again, Elías feeling his clothes and skin and hair become dry. His hair became a tangled mess but now he didn’t feel weighted and _freezing_. He was still cold, though, and he shook a bit before he felt a blanket around his shoulders, looking up at Remus, the werewolf’s eyes worried. “Lupin, do you have something warm? Something good for his throat –”

“We’ve milk and honey,” Sirius spoke up, standing. “I’ll warm them up and get them here.”

“Something other than jeans, too,” Severus murmured, sighing, and Elías felt a complaint about to rise from his throat, trying to assure his friends that he was alright but Sirius left and Remus nodded and then the two Slytherins were left alone, making Elías feel like quite a burden indeed. “How do you feel? What else hurts?”

“Everythi-ing,” Elías confessed and Severus pressed him closer, even, shaking some warmth and it was _wonderful_ , making the Spaniard throw decorum and shame out the window as he gripped Severus’ tunic, burrowing into his side. “I’m-m sorry, S-Sev.”

“It was a stupid fight,” Severus whispered. “No matter.”

“I d-do care about h-how you f-feel,” Elías assured him, nose runny and head starting to settle a bit. “I d-do, _pleas-se_ , I d-do, I j-just…” he coughed for a moment, feeling salt in his teeth, whining. “I w-want to h-help him-m…”

“I know you do,” Severus sighed, sounded resigned. “Don’t know why I thought you wouldn’t. You’ve been doing it to _everyone_ you meet. You’re going to burn out, though, Elías. And soon there’ll be no heart to give.”

“I-I’ve got p-plenty to g-give,” Elías retorted, eyes falling shut as Severus’ hand rubbed his back so gently, spreading warmth everywhere. Maybe there was some magic involved, too. “I S-Saw –”

“Not now,” Severus interrupted firmly. “Now you _rest_. You’ll tell us about your Sight later, when you _can_ talk.”

“S’important,” Elías insisted, pulling back, hand against Severus’ shoulder.

“I’m sure it is,” Severus nodded but he was frowning. “Yet not at the cost of your health. Get some sleep, Elías. Recuperate. And talk in the morning.”

Elías dropped his head on the pillow, finally nodding, too tired, too exhausted to even care at that point. Remus soon came back with his own ratty shirt and flannel pants, the ones he always wore and Elías thanked him quietly, coughing a bit as he sat up to change, Severus and Remus outside the room.

The two came back in once Elías was dressed and the Spaniard sat on the bed, trying to stay awake through his exhaustion, “Where…?”

“Just stay here, it’s pointless to move you when you’re hurt,” Severus told him firmly, making Elías wince. “ _Black_ won’t mind,” the potioneer quickly said as he saw Elías’ face. “Lay _down_ , Elías. And rest.”

“Okay,” he gave in, kicking out the now dry sheets from under him and jumping a bit as Remus rushed to tuck him in. “I feel like a k-kid,” he mumbled, looking at his friends.

“You’re not a _child_ for being taken care of,” Remus frowned.

“You’ve done this for us before,” Severus rolled his eyes, unimpressed.

“How is H-Harry?” Elías chose to ask instead.

“I checked on him, he’s alright,” Remus assured, sitting down by Elías’ feet and patting his leg. “Just a bit spooked, is all. We all are.”

“Sorry,” Elías swallowed.

“It’s not your fault,” Remus told him, hand moving to raise the sheets a little bit, closer to Elías’ chin, brushing some hair away and Elías felt his cheeks warm up at the gesture. “Really, he’ll understand once you explain. For now, worry only about your health.”

“Can – c-can you guys p-put that stuff away?” Elías asked, pointing at the floor where the jellyfish twitched and shone. Severus frowned deeply, looking at them and Remus nodded before taking out his wand –

“Wait,” Severus lifted a hand, gripping Remus’, stopping him from vanishing the remains. “Those are not surface jellyfish.”

“What do you mean?” Remus frowned, putting his wand away.

“B-bioluminescence,” Elías stuttered out and Severus nodded, Remus still looking confused. “Deep s-sea.”

“You were in _deep sea_?” Remus spluttered.

“I d-don’t _know_ ,” Elías coughed and Severus lifted one of the jellyfish with his wand, looking around before taking a vase from Sirius’ shelf, emptying a bunch of lighters on the desk and filling it quickly with what looked like seawater. He dumped the jellyfish inside, glancing in, eyebrow twitching. “W-what… what will y-you do with them?”

“Find a marine biologist,” he replied, setting the vase aside before a knock on the door made them three look, Sirius stepping inside with a steaming mug of milk and honey, the two things that made Elías want to gag but when he took the mug, he realized it was Earl Grey, making him look at Sirius with surprise.

“Not everyone likes milk alone, thought tea would be nice,” he offered and Elías gave him a small smile.

“Thank you,” he said honestly, reaching out with his free hand to squeeze Sirius’ fingers for a moment, quickly taking a long sip that warmed his throat, his stomach, his heart and mind. Letting out a sigh, Elías leaned against the pillows and gave his friends a grateful smile. “Thank _all_ of you. I never thought Sights would be as easy as this.”

“This wasn’t easy,” Severus interrupted, frowning. “But you cannot turn away help, Elías, and you know this.”

“I know this now,” Elías took another sip, the tea almost burning his tongue but he really didn’t care, it was _so nice_. “I’ll – I’ll finish this up and get some sleep. Sorry I took over your room, Sirius.”

“That’s fine, angel, there’s a thousand rooms in this bloody house,” the Gryffindor pushed his hands into the pockets of his ratty jeans, shrugging and giving him a small smile. “Just rest. Tomorrow we’ll deal with everything else.”

Anxiety swarmed Elías’ stomach, smile faltering, “Right. Yes… right.”

“Whatever it was,” Remus began, gathering everyone’s attention. “It’ll be okay. If it’s something from the past, we can reconcile with it. If it’s the future, we can do something about it. But no matter what, we can talk it out like adults.”

Elías really, _really_ hoped they would.

* * *

“It’s not the first time that’s happened,” Remus sighed as he sat down on the old loveseat of the drawing room by the entrance of the house, rubbing his face.

“And it won’t be the last,” Severus added, forgoing all the seats in the room, instead choosing to pace as his face crisped into a mask of frustration.

“Last time was at the – fuck, the whole bay thing, right?” Sirius sat down next to Remus but with one leg over the armrest, leaning against the werewolf. “He disapparated and all that, yeah?”

“Yes,” Remus bit his thumb nail, eyes stormy with worry. “But he’d been trying to _meditate_ , do a seer – a _thing_ that he’d done before. Elías explained that the first time he did it, his ears bled. Then the second time was in San Fernando, with us. He just… disapparated, he had lacerations all over him, he had _pine needles_ in his _feet_.”

“He heard church bells for a week, kept dissociating,” Severus added quietly.

“ _Church bells_?” Sirius blinked rapidly, “I didn’t _know_ this.”

“His Sights are getting out of control,” Severus spoke, frowning deeply, pacing faster, “They began as this rumor, as fractured pieces that he mostly saw while _asleep_. But now he’d blacking out and fainting and now _drowning_.”

“I thought he was starting to control them now,” Sirius pointed out but he also looked worried. Remus chewed on his lower lip, shaking his own head.

“No, Padfoot,” he whispered. “ _He_ thinks he can control them now. But they’re only getting worse.”

“But why? What’s happening that’s making them worse?” Sirius crossed his arms. “Can’t we ask some other seer or something?”

“He’s already messaged other seers,” Remus replied. “But nothing. We’ve found nothing about these type of visions. His Sights are unlike anything we’ve ever seen before.”

“We have to do it again,” Severus suddenly said and Sirius and Remus turned to him, the potioneer’s hand rubbing over his mouth, breathing in before letting it out in a quick huff. “He has to do the ritual again. And this time, we will be ready for a _finite incantatem_.”

“ _Severus_ ,” Remus breathed, horrified. “We’ve _just_ seen him almost drown –”

“Well, it’s going to get _worse_ , Lupin,” Severus spit back, looking _actually_ worried. “So we might as well risk it once and know what the bloody hell is going on.”

“It’s _his_ choice,” Sirius said quickly.

“He’ll do it,” Remus felt his stomach churn, nervously fiddling with a loose string of his pants. “He wants to do it. He wants to find out, over… over his safety.”

“Is there anyone that can reason with him about it?” Sirius frowned.

Remus snorted, “Juan. His father. But if I told him, I don’t think Elías would ever trust me again. He’s got… uh, a shaky relationship with his family. Loves them very much but doesn’t trust them, really.”

“Huh,” Sirius’ frown only got deeper.

“We’ve to try,” Severus insisted. “If we manage to find _what_ it is, what type of Divination magic, the wavelength, the – _anything_ , we will be pointed out in the right direction.”

“And what if he gets hurt?” Remus asked, finding Severus’ dark eyes with his own, seeing the man just as frustrated as he was. It made him want to grab the coffee table and throw it back, anger and impotence burning in his because he already knew what Severus was going to say before he even opened his mouth.

“He’s going to get hurt either way.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Sirius rubbed his face, groaning low. “You’ve done your nerd thing already?”“We’ve been pouring over books, constantly,” Remus pursed his lips. “And just – there is _nothing_ on this. This has never been seen before.”

“Maybe you’re looking in the wrong language?” Sirius offered and Severus paused, glancing at the other Gryffindor. “I mean – maybe it’s a Spanish thing?”

“He’s also contacted other seers in Spain, so no,” Severus sat down, finally, and rubbed his hands all over his face. “This is _exhausting_. No seer has what Elías had. He’s not a _seer_ , I am _so sure of it_.”

“No prophecies,” Remus remembered, nodding slowly running a hand through his hair. “Honestly, this just leaves… something in his blood, maybe?”

“You mean he may not be a muggleborn?” Sirius sat up. “Adopted?”

“No way,” Remus shook his head. “He’s not adopted, he looks so much like his mother and father. Almost his entire family has those blue eyes.”

“So maybe there’s someone who’s magic in his lineage,” Sirius insisted.

“Maybe,” Remus wasn’t convinced, though. He was just throwing out ideas, trying to interconnect them.

The three of them were silent for a moment, lost in thought, trying to connect the dots. Remus can’t, all he can think of is the way Elías shook when he arrived from the Cádiz Bay, how terrified he’d been just now, the cries and the panic attacks. It made him wish Elías had never been able to See, even if that meant they’d have never met. He didn’t deserve to live in fear.

“I should get back home,” Severus finally broke the silence, standing, and Remus gave him a small smile.

“Thank you for coming at such short notice, Severus,” he said, leaving the couch to take the man’s shoulder in hand. “I knew I could count on you.”

Severus watched him for a moment, looking plainly stunned, the first time that Remus had seen such an emotion so easily displayed on his face. Color began to rise up his face and Severus quickly batted his hand away, rolling his eyes, giving Remus his back.

“Of _course_ you can. I’m the only one who knows any healing spells around here, Lupin,” he growled. “I’ll come back in the morning, first hour. Then we can think of what to do next and plan ahead.”

“Goodnight, Severus,” Remus chuckled, partly amused, watching the man turn the corner into the kitchen. When Remus looked at Sirius, he had a sour face. “What?”

“Since when are you such good friends with Snivellus?” he asked, sulking, making Remus sigh.

“His name isn’t Snivellus,” Remus told him patiently, sitting on the coffee table and leveling Sirius with a stare that bore through him. As always, like many years ago, Sirius squirmed and looked away, looking annoyed. “His name is Severus Snape. And times have changed, Sirius. I’ve spoken with him and dined with him and –”

“You two looked pretty close,” Sirius mumbled.

“ _Sirius_ ,” Remus cut in, now annoyed and the Gryffindor winced. “You’re not seventeen anymore. Cut out the jealous bullshit. Severus and I are friends now, we trust each other and we have moved on from what happened during Hogwarts. I suggest you do, as well.”

“He called Lily –”

“You also called Lily a _bitch_ in fourth year for not giving you her seat so you could make out with Jane Haffin during a Ravenclaw Quidditch match,” Remus snapped, making Sirius fall quiet. “You also betrayed my trust, and everyone else’s, just to get back at Severus. You bullied your brother in Seventh Year, _thoroughly so_ , until you two ended up fighting in the Quidditch Pitch. Do you want me to keep going?”

“No,” Sirius whispered.

“Then stop acting like Severus is the only one who was a twat back at Hogwarts,” Remus frowned.

“I didn’t join a _cult_ ,” Sirius sneered.

“No, you didn’t,” Remus nodded. “You left it, in fact. But is that how you’re going to measure everything, from now on? You left the cult, others didn’t. Others couldn’t. Others only had the cult, Sirius. Like Narcissa.”

Sirius’ face changed and Remus knew he’d finally gotten through him.

“… Narcissa isn’t like him, though,” Sirius told him.

“Narcissa had a family that loved her, through and through,” Remus said softly. “You had the Potters. What did Severus have?”

“I don’t know, but he sure had the Malfoy’s _and_ my own fucking parents,” Sirius huffed but Remus just sighed, reaching over to grab Sirius’ hand, entwining their fingers. Sirius immediately melted at that, all anger and fight leaving him and if Remus was proud of something, it was of that – that he could calm Sirius Black with just a touch. “I’m sorry. I… it’s hard to forget.”

“It’s not a matter of forgetting, though,” Remus’ voice was kind, squeezing Sirius’ hand. “Eli – you know, Elías says that right now we all want a common goal, and that alone should be reason enough to work together. It’s alright to not like each other but hatred a lot of time burrows into us and – and festers. I know I let what happened in Fifth Year fester. I really do, and it never helped me.”

“So did I… Pettigrew. I still feel it rotten in the pit of my stomach,” Sirius confessed, his free arm moving around his middle. “Or maybe it’s ‘cause I haven’t eaten in a while.”

“Hah,” Remus let out a little huff, shaking his head, grinning. “Maybe.”

“I don’t know how to _not_ hate him,” Sirius said, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Because I hate him for a lot of reasons. Not just that he poisoned my fucking brother, but what he did to Lily – like, it wasn’t just an _insult_ , when he was in all that Deatheater cult shit, Lily was _worried to the bone_. You remember how she was?”

“Yeah, Padfoot, I remember,” Remus said quietly. “She cared about him.”

“He didn’t deserve her,” Sirius stated, believing it so much and Remus didn’t say anything, not really knowing what to say because back then Severus hadn’t even been trying to get better. He hadn’t even _wanted_ to. It’d been a different time. “And he doesn’t deserve Elías now.”

Remus sighed deeply, his hand covering the stubble growing on his jaw. “Sirius –”

“Are you going to tell me that Snivellus,” Sirius sat up, furious. “With his shit-stain fucking attitude, deserves the guy who gave up his fucking _twenties_ to take care of a kid that had nothing to do with him?! Or – or the guy who saved my life –”

“He did it because he’s got a fucking hero complex,” Remus interrupted, his hand twitching around Sirius’. “You honestly think these are all rational –”

“No! But they come from the heart! Since when have you seen a Slytherin with a h –”

“Andromeda, for starters,” Remus cut it at the root, making Sirius once again stare at Remus, caught. “Icarus Yaxley and his wife, Pippa, who was killed for helping us. Theodore Nott, a boy who’s defended Harry. And the rest of that Slytherin group, for all that _you_ care about them. I don’t think you understand, Sirius, that it is _over_. All the feuds, all the fighting, all the need to antagonize each other? It’s _done_. People are _exhausted_. We cannot take another war and it’s pointless now, when we all want the same thing. So _please_ , try and be civil.”

Sirius said nothing, staring at the ceiling, and Remus waited until the man spoke.

“I just –” his eyes were a bit shiny. “I just realized just how much of that development I missed, huh?”

“Fuck,” Remus breathed, already moving to hold Sirius before the man began to laugh, crying as well, hand over his face. “Padfoot –”

“I missed all that – that moving on, huh? Fuck, _fucking hell_ , _fuck_ ,” he choked, Remus sitting on the floor, rubbing Sirius’ shoulder, ignoring the twinge of his knee. “It feels bad to move on. It feels bad to – to even consider forgiving him, Remus.”

“I know. It did for me, to, at first,” Remus nodded. “But slowly, you’ll learn to see each other as human beings. It takes time but now you’ve got a lot.”

“I suppose,” Sirius rubbed away his tears, swallowing. “I had a fight with Elías today.”

Remus paused, worried, “What? You did?”

“Yeah, about some stupid shit,” Sirius waved a hand. “Made me realize that I just… assume a lot about everyone. That I uh, apply my own experiences on them. So maybe – maybe people like Sni – _Snape_ , didn’t… feel angry. Just – just felt the sad parts of it all.”

“That’s good, that’s very mature,” Remus smiled and Sirius groaned loudly, hands covering his face, startling Remus.

“I’m over _thirty_ , Moony! You can’t say that to me! Now I feel ridiculous!” he flushed.

“W-well!” Remus laughed, not expecting it. “That’s a compliment for you, right?”

“Oh, _fuck off_ ,” Sirius shoved at him, making Remus laugh hard, the two finally letting go of the tension that had been building for a while. When Remus finally calmed down and looked at Sirius, he found his grey eyes brimming with affection, making heat rise up his face, quickly looking away. “You’re so cute when you laugh.”

“ _Sirius_ ,” Remus replied, embarrassed, flushing darker and Sirius’ hand pulled at Remus’, kissing the back of it, making Remus incapable of forming another word, hiding his face on Sirius’ outer thigh. “You’re always doing that.”

“Making you blush?” Sirius snickered.

“ _Yes_ , it’s embarrassing,” Remus sighed. “Don’t – don’t do it in front of others, alright?”

“Is it okay to do it when we’re alone?” the question was serious, no room for joking.

“…yes,” Remus ended up saying, pulling his face back a bit to look at Sirius when he felt lips upon his, quick and gently, butterflies exploding all over Remus’ stomach, eyes widening as Sirius pulled away, his smile soft.

Remus’ ears were _ringing_ , entire skin fuzzy and before he could help it, a little hysterical giggle escaped him, hand slapping over his mouth, whispering, “Did – did you just kiss me?”

“You told me I could make you blush,” Sirius smirked, nose bumping his. “So I did. You’re red as a tomato, Moony.”

“You _arse_ ,” Remus covered his face, heart jumping inside his ribcage. “You haven’t kissed me since –”

“Yeah, yeah, Fifth Year in the locker rooms, I know,” Sirius shrugged. “We didn’t talk about that one, though. Are we going to talk about this one?”

“We both need – to do a lot of work before a relationship,” Remus told him. “ _I_ can’t be in a relationship, Sirius. I know I can’t speak for you but _fuck_ , we’re both…”

“Yeah,” Sirius sighed, rubbing the side of his neck, wincing. “Should’ve thought about that – otherwise you’d be with Elías, right?”

Remus spluttered, “No, _no_ , I –”

“I wouldn’t _mind_ , is what I’m saying –”

“Sirius, I –”

“I’ve seen how you two are, y’know, I don’t blame –”

“Elías and I will _never_ be a thing,” Remus blurted out, making Sirius pause. “Have – have you _seen_ him? Not – not talking about his appearance, which – like, _fuck_ , you two are way out of my league –”

“Remus…” Sirius sighed, looking tired.

“–and let’s not _talk_ about the age gap, that part is – I think it’s the _most_ egregious but he’s this ambitious, family-oriented man and _somehow_ he’s got a puppy crush on me and –”“You think everyone with a crush on you has a puppy crush,” Sirius retorted.

“I don’t,” Remus flushed. “He just – he thinks too highly of me, you know? He doesn’t know all the messy bits.”

“He doesn’t know you don’t even have a house, so I’m keen to agree on that, actually,” Sirius hummed and Remus winced.

“How…?”

“You think I didn’t see your other stuff in the furthest guest room?” Sirius asked, cocking an eyebrow, making Remus look away hastily. “You’ve been staying here since the house was opened. I’d guessed they found out that you’ve got lycanthropy.”

“Yes, the uh… landlord didn’t want me around,” Remus murmured, uncomfortably pulling his knee up. “I’ve managed not to let everyone know? I just – I didn’t want Elías to… do that thing where he just offers everything he has. I don’t want that, I just – I want some peace and quiet with my thoughts, for a change.”

“I won’t tell him,” Sirius at least promised, making a knot of worry unfurl in Remus’ chest, sighing deeply.

“Thank you,” he rubbed his nose, glancing at him. “You don’t mind…?”

“Not at all,” Sirius grinned widely, nudging Remus’ foot. “You, Harry, Elías and me, all summer? It’s going to be _great_!” he laughed and Remus managed a smile as well, trying not to think about what would happen _after_ the summer, once the three of them were gone and Sirius was the only one living here.

And not just living here but _confined_ in this space. If they didn’t catch Pettigrew soon… then Sirius would find himself once more trapped.


	19. the Bat, the Crow, the Fox, the Ox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has very strong themes. Very careful, please, tread lightly.
> 
> Trigger Warnings for this Chapter:  
> \- A lot of mentions of suicide and suicidal themes  
> \- Guilt  
> \- Outing of someone without consent  
> \- Mention of abuse  
> \- Mention of bad family dynamics

“He’s a twat.”

Regulus gave a deep sigh, face pressing closer to his knees and Corban leaned back on the expensive bedsheets, glaring at the ceiling of Regulus’ bedroom. There was only darkness coming through the windows and the lights that covered the bedroom were dim, flickering as candlelight on the nightstand and by the door’s sides. The two of them were in disparaged formal tunics, cuffs and buttons undone, comfortable as laughter and music rang downstairs. Sitting by the bed was also a younger Severus and a girl dressed in greens, half-asleep against Severus’ knee.

“He _is_ ,” Severus corroborated, scowling, his hand gently massaging the girl’s head at the back, fingers moving through her thick hair. “I don’t understand why –”

“He’s his _brother_ , your insensitive _arses_ ,” she spoke up, groaning. “My head’s going to explode…”

“You shouldn’t have had so much wine,” Severus replied, rolling his eyes and she flicked his nose, making him snort.

“Well, I think what happened was just bound to happen,” Corban nudged Regulus, who ran a hand through his hair and – and his eyes were wet and red, making Corban jerk. “Ah, _fuck_.”

“M’fine,” the youngest of the Black rasped.

Severus and Philippa sat up, glancing over before Pippa rushed on top of the bed, hugging Regulus, who gave a wince. She ignored it, arms around his neck, pulling him to her chest so she could pet his hair and, eventually, Regulus’ shoulders gave up their tension and he went limp against her.

“You’re allowed to feel bad about it,” she said softly.

“But you _shouldn’t_ ,” Severus rested his elbows on the bed, still frowning deeply. “He’s the one that antagonized you and your family. He’s the one who got sorted into Gryffindor, who defied you and your parents at every turn, the one who became a _bully_ and a _Dumbledore pawn_. It is literally _his fault_.”

“Sev, it’s not –” Regulus cleared his throat as his voice broke, wincing. “What – what even _led_ him to it? It’s been years and I still – I still don’t _know_ why he’d do this. Why he’d…”

Regulus rubbed at his eyes, taking in a shaky breath and Corban’s hand moved to grip his calf, squeezing, the three friends looking at each other worriedly before looking at Regulus again, Corban talking next.

“I know it’s rough,” he whispered, Regulus’ greys finding Corban’s eyes. “I know it feels as if – as if it’s your fault, Reg, but it really isn’t. Your brother is an arse with chronic Dumbledore pedestal syndrome, alright?”

“Just wish he’d –” Regulus’ eyes squeezed shut and he gasped out. “–just _tried_.”

“It’s not easy,” Pippa told him, sighing. “You know it isn’t. We all do. At this point –”

“I know,” Regulus grunted, no longer looking sad, just defeated. “I know, I fucking – I _know_. He took the easy fucking way out and I _hate_ that he gets to walk out feeling like he did everything so fucking well – like, _how_ bloody entitled do you _have_ to be to – I – _argh!_ ”

Regulus dropped his body over Corban’s on the mattress, facing down and quickly grabbing a pillow before screaming into it, Pippa sighing and patting his back.

“I hate him,” Regulus groaned loudly. “Sixteen _fucking_ years of insufferable home life and even when he’s gone, I’m still thinking of his sorry arse.”

“Forget him,” Severus insisted. “He means _nothing_. Probably already took Potter’s name.”

“ _Sev_!” Corban hissed at him and Severus winced as Regulus didn’t move or say anything, shoulders hunched, fingers adjusting their grip on the pillow. When he suddenly sat up, his eyes were an even angrier red and he sat down and punched the pillow as he put it in his lap.

“Who cares?” the Slytherin mumbled bitterly. “Deserter. I deserve a better brother.”

“Yes, you do,” Severus tried to be sensible this time, obviously struggling with it.

“You’ve got us!” Pippa threw her arms around Regulus’ neck, pulling him close and smooching the side of his head. Regulus managed a smile, quickly covering it up with a scowl but soon, Corban was also pressing his head to Regulus’ stomach and holding him tight. “Sev, you too!”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Regulus warned.

“I’d rather not,” he said dryly.

“Icarus, get _off me!_ ”

Corban laughed as he was kicked off with a socked foot, laying on his back and grinning at his best friend, Regulus’ face softening somewhat as Pippa also pulled back, her hand on Regulus’ shoulder.

“I…” Regulus sounded emotional, all of a sudden and he took a deep breath before simply nodding. “Thank you.”

“Hey, if there’s a party, there’s always room to talk in your bedroom,” Philippa nudged him, grinning wide. “Right, Sev?”

“Can we stay here?” he sulked. “My cousin Thore is here. I really don’t want to hear him tell everyone how we’re definitely not related.”

“We can stay, Sev,” Regulus assured him, starting to put his own hair in a high ponytail. “Honestly, I don’t feel like celebrating my birthday anyway.”

“We’ll celebrate it properly,” Philippa assured, her eyes sparkling. “We should go to Bluehill with a bunch of Firewhiskey and just get _drunk_.”

“Or just take music there,” Corban suggested, cocking an eyebrow at his fiancée. “Last time you and Lucius got drunk, I had to hold _both_ your hair back.”

Philippa pouted, “Corban, this is for Reggie –”

“I think this year I’d just like to have a quiet thing,” Regulus finally said, making his three friends look surprised at him. “I’m a little tired, anyway. It’s been… it’s been exhausting.”

“Right,” Severus whispered. “The… _lessons_.”

“…how are you doing with those?” Philippa asked quietly.

“I’m performing well,” Regulus shrugged.

“I didn’t ask about how you’re performing, Reg, I’m asking how _you_ are,” she sighed, shoulder against his.

“I have _no_ idea,” Regulus laughed. “And I’d rather not even think about it. If I do, I think – I think –”

The door of the bedroom opened and everyone jumped, looking at a tall, white, angry-looking man with grey eyes and mousy brown, barely-there hair. He wore expensive tunics and his eyes went immediately to Regulus, the tension rising sharply in the room.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here, Regulus?” he demanded.

“Just… taking a break with my friends, father,” Regulus responded, voice calm despite his knuckles being white, hand tight around Corban’s.

“It’s your _birthday_ , don’t be _rude_ ,” Orion Black sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’ll have plenty of time to gossip with your friends _any_ other time. Your cousin Bellatrix was looking for you – you _need_ to be talking to _your_ guests.”

“Yes, father,” Regulus nodded, quickly standing and he and his friends put themselves together, straightening robes and leaving the room one by one slowly. The last one to leave was Regulus himself, who glanced back at the room, almost – almost as if he were looking right at –

Elías sat up, gasping for air, eyes wide as the darkness of the room disoriented him. He felt the bed creak and grime between his hands, heart in his throat, raising his own fingers and rubbing thumb and index together. Dust. Collected dust.

Sirius’ room had been cleaned of dust.

This was _not_ Sirius’ room.

Elías stood up so very slowly, eyes wide, wondering where he’d been transported now, _without a wand again_ , and as he lifted a hand to find a wall, he found the light switch. Elated, Elías turned it on and the old candles reacted to the ever-burning spell, lighting up, making the Spaniard blink rapidly to adjust to the sudden brightness.

He was in Regulus’ room.

Elías’ head spun, hand moving to the doorknob, finding dust gathered at the top and if dust was gathered at the top like the rest of the room and he felt _dirty_ , dirty and like he’d broken some sort of – of – of promise or trust and he didn’t know if it was Corban’s or Severus’ or Sirius’ but he wanted to get _out_ –

“Please,” Elías wheezed as he wiggled the doorknob, sobbing as he found it locked, forehead pressing to the wood. “P-please, _please!_ ”

Panic rose in him, feeling like a pair of eyes were pressed to the back of his neck and he felt his breathing pick up, jiggling the door harder, oxygen short in his lungs. He couldn’t – he had to get out, there was something here, there was someone in this room, there was a _ghost_ or a _mark_ of pain and it was –

The door opened and Elías stumbled out, nearly falling to the floor, his knees so wear that they shook. Nobody had opened it, it’d been merely stuck as he realized this as he turned to the room, eyes wide, heaving for a breath. The door had been stuck, that was all – old room, old house… old door.

He wanted to cry. Immediately, tears rose to his eyes and he stood there for a moment, trying to reign them in, trying to stop feeling like a traitor to everyone’s trust, trying to not feel like an idiot for wanting to understand Regulus and Pippa, trying to understand what they’d meant by _trying_ –

“ _Don’t tell my brother._ ”

Elías jerked back, letting out a blood-curling scream, that voice ringing _right in his ear_ and he turned his head before crashing into the water, looking up at the barely-there light of the surface, feeling something – a hand, three, a _million of them_ crawling up his legs, pulling him into the depths as he just let his hands float in the air, strange wand on the right and he could do it, he could get out, an _ascendio_ or – or anything – why wasn’t – why couldn’t he –

Elías gasped for air, head cracking against the floorboards, seeing stars, once again on the hallway and he turned on his side, waiting for water to escape his mouth but none came. All he felt was something warm pooling on the floor seeping into his hair. He wasn’t wet in the face, his clothes dry, and he stared at the railing leading to the stairs, breathing rapidly, terrified, blood frozen in his veins and head growing lighter and lighter and the nausea…

The doors of the bedrooms opened and pretty soon there were people around him but all Elías could hear was the stillness water in his ears; the calm, mute sound of bubbles rising, feel the limpness of his arms and, belatedly, as he felt someone sit him up and wrap him in a blanket, Elías realized that Regulus had wanted to drown.

* * *

The next time he woke up, it was in Santa Maria del Olivar’s. He recognized it because he and Elena now always came to this one, instead of the other wizarding hospital in Madrid. He blinked slowly, groggy, feeling lightheaded and nauseous, slowly reaching a hand out and looking at it.

The snake. The twenty sided die. The trans symbol and the other little tattoos his cousin Blanca had doodled on him with his permission in Mallorca, back in ’88. Elías took a deep breath and let his tired hand fall, watching the ceiling.

When he turned his head, he was surprised to see Corban Yaxley, of all people, snoring in a very uncomfortable-looking chair, drooling a bit against the small table. There were flowers there, the blue hydrangeas from Bluehill and a little box of Belgian chocolates. Elías swallowed and looked for any clue as to what day it was but didn’t even find a clock. How long had he been out? What had happened? His head ached _so bad_.

“Corban?” Elías rasped, voice shot and he rushed to grasp his throat, groaning. “C-Corban?”

Corban snored away, making Elías’ anxiety ease away a little bit. But only a little, as he remembered his dream and where he’d woken up and the things he’d seen that he wasn’t supposed to.

“Corban!” he hissed and the man yelped as Elías threw him the box of chocolates, looking about wildly before his startled eyes found the Spaniard, quickly standing.

“Eli!” he rushed to his side, pushing Elías fully on the bed instead of leaning towards the side, hands warm and voice worried. “Bloody hell, you’re _awake_.”

“What the fuck happened?” he asked, blinking hard.

“You cracked open your head, that’s what,” Corban sat down, eyes roaming Elías’ face and the professor took it in slowly, fingers finding his head and… a bandage around it. He touched it, blinking, remembering that he’d fallen down, yeah, he could – he could remember that. “What the hell happened, Eli? Severus told me that you fell down the stairs but I know when he’s lying, you’ve been out for a _week_ –”

 _Your best friend let himself drown_.

Elías stared, watching Corban, thinking of Dumbledore or _Sirius_ wanting to strangle Elías for even thinking about -

“Oh, thank _Merlin_ ,” he heard from the door and Corban and Elías turned to see K…iera. And Felix there, too, the both of them with a bag before Kiera rushed to Elías side and – and gave him a _hug_.

Elías just sat there, stunned, eyes burning a bit and when Kiera pulled back, she put her hands on Elías’ shoulders, brown eyes worried, “Are you alright? How do you feel?”

“I’m alright,” he croaked quietly. “What – what are you doing here…?”

“We were worried,” Felix told him, eyes kind, his arm moving around Kiera’s small waist. “Heard you were in the hospital – we’ve come a few times, really.”

Elías tried to swallow past the knot in his throat, trying to not feel like a horrible fucking man, all these people who loved Regulus so very dearly giving him – thinking of Elías as –

“I think maybe he’s a bit overwhelmed,” a voice came from the doorway and Remus walked forward, dark rings under his eyes, hands in the pockets of his pants as he walked forward a bit. “Maybe it’s best to leave him alone for now, let him rest.”

“Of course,” Felix nodded, nudging his wife and Corban glanced one last time at Elías before nodding, the Slytherins exiting the room as Elías whispered a soft goodbye. He watched Corban’s back, remembering the way Pippa had squeezed his arm, had kicked and laughed at him, the love in his eyes and before he could help it, Elías began to pathetically cry in silence, door closing, too much of a coward to tell Corban what he’d seen.

Remus sat on the edge of the bed, watching him as Elías pathetically tried to put himself together, hand against his eyes, head pounding.

“What happened, Eli?” Remus asked quietly.

“Is Harry okay?” he questioned, instead, and Remus sighed deeply, nodding.

“He’s with your parents. They come by every morning and every night,” he explained quietly. “Your sister, too. I think the entire staff is scared of her.”

Elías felt guilt eating him from the inside, angry monster that it was, tearing him apart and Elías wanted to double over and not _exist_. Instead, he rasped out, “And you?”

“I watched you bleed out in my lap and then in St. Mungo’s, when they wouldn’t take you in without being a British wizard,” Remus told him, voice rough as well, tired eyes meeting his. “I had to call your sister – didn’t want to worry your parents at first, seeing your child bleeding out –”

“Right,” Elías rubbed at his eyes, feeling like an absolute piece of shit. “And – and my head?”

“They were able to heal you properly,” Remus, rubbed the side of his neck, grunting. “The bad part was the side effect of the Blood-Replenishing potions. Those in bigger quantities –”

“Can do a lot of fucking damage to my stomach. Yeah, I know,” Elías looked down and lifted his hospital gown a bit, finding a brand new scar on his stomach, wincing. “Tubed. Great. I was fucking tubed.”

“You’re _alive_ and that’s what matters,” Remus cut in, making Elías drop back on the bed, exhausted. “Eli, what the _bloody hell_ did you see?”

Elías whined, hands trembling as he raised them to cover his face, breathing hard and shaking his head quick. He couldn’t. It wasn’t – _fuck_.

“I saw R-Regulus,” he finally sobbed out, uncontrollably crying now. “I k-know how he d-died.” He couldn’t see Remus’ face as he covered his eyes, pressing the heels of his hands so hard against them that he saw stars, but Remus said nothing, probably shocked to the core. _Don’t tell my brother_ , he’d said, and Elías didn’t know if it was a memory or a ghost or a mix of both but he couldn’t keep it in, choking out, “R-Remus –”

“Eli, what –”

“Regulus _k-killed himself_ , R-Remus,” Elías cried and Remus’ hand on his leg went slack, a rush of air ringing through the room and Elías wanted to curl up into a ball and not _exist_ , wanted to not know this. “He d-drowned himself s-somewhere where c-creatu-ures would d-drag him down…”

“Fucking hell,” Remus choked out and when Elías dropped his hands, he saw Remus’ pained expression, the shocked and horrified look in his eyes. “How…?”

“I s-saw him – bloated, l-like a cadaver,” Elías wheezed out, trying to breathe properly as Remus began to sit closer. “I-in Regulus’ room a-and then I was i-in this m-muddy water and he was dr-rowni-i-ing and – and – and he had his w-wand! He could – c-could’ve –”

“I’m so sorry, Elías,” Remus pulled him into a tight embrace and Elías hadn’t realized how much he’d needed it until now, choking out a cry into his shoulder, wrapping his arms around him and hugging the Gryffindor. “I’m so sorry you had to see that –”

“H-how am I going to t-tell Sev a-and Sirius?” he asked, desperately. “I wa-wasn’t supposed t-to and –”

“I’ll tell them,” Remus told him and the guilt of putting that burden on Remus wasn’t as big as the utter _relief_ that run through Elías, gripping the back of Remus’ shirt tighter, nose pressing to his shoulder. “It’ll be alright, Eli. It’s _alright_. You don’t have to tell them, I will. And they will understand –”

“Corban, too,” he added, making Remus pause. “H-he deserves to k-know.”

“He’d have to know about your –”

“I trust him,” Elías croaked, expecting scolding, expecting Remus to try and reason with him, expecting anything but Remus’ hand slowly combing through whatever of Elías’ hair wasn’t under the bandage – shorn short, tight to his scalp – and sighing.

“Alright. I’ll call him up, let him in – and call your parents and sister, too,” Remus told him and Elías’ chest caved in as the Spaniard pulled back and saw nothing but sympathy and support in Remus’ expression, making his eyes blur immediately. “Oh, _Eli…_ ”

Elías wanted to thank him but didn’t find the words in English or even Spanish, stuck behind his tongue and instead buried his face against Remus’ neck, finding refuge there as Remus’ arm came around his shoulder, rubbing it with rough fingers. They both stayed like that for a good while and with every pass of Remus’ hand against his arm, Elías’ anxiety lowered. By the time it was at a manageable level, the Spaniard was exhausted and he let out a little sigh, moving back to lay against the pillows, feeling Remus reach for his tattooed hand now and squeeze it.

“I’ll let your family know you’re okay,” Remus told him and Elías nodded, eyes falling shut. “For now, rest, alright?”

“Thank you,” Elías finally said, unbelievably grateful, eyes fluttering open to look at him. “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

Remus jerked, swallowing visibly and something passed through his eyes before pulling Elías’ hand up and kissing the side of it, making Elías’ stomach flutter despite _everything_. Because of course Elías’ heart wasn’t yet used to how Remus displayed his friendship, fuck.

“Well, I had to think in the past week what I’d do without you and I didn’t like it,” Remus told Elías quietly. “So rest up and recover before your sister comes to shout at you.”

“Has she yelled at you?” Elías frowned.

“She’s yelled at _everyone_ ,” Remus laughed, making Elías groan softly. “She had quite the fight with your cousin Jaime, too.”

“Jaime was here?” Elías frowned.

“Ah, your… entire family was in El Rompido,” Remus explained and Elías blinked at him, stunned. “I was there with Harry, taking care of him, and they all… piled in.”

“You’ve met the Fernández side?” Elías asked.

“They were really nice,” Remus assured him quickly. “Jaime and your sister had a fight because she… misgendered you and then Jaime had to explain to Harry –”

Elías’ stomach dropped, “Harry _knows_?”

“He knows and does not care, Elías,” Remus said firmly but Elías felt his world tilt backwards, trying to guess what Harry thought of him now, how his perspective had changed. Would he tell Ron and Hermione? Would those two tell the entire school? Would he lose the respect he’d earned in the last year? “Eli – Harry doesn’t _care_ , alright?”

“Alright,” he mumbled, garbled.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep, but know that everyone is here for you,” Remus assured, hand moving to pat his leg. “Sleep. Rest up.”

“I’ll try,” was all Elías could promised, curling under the sheets, turning on his side and getting comfortable as Remus raised his wand and moved the curtains to cover the low light of the sunset or sunrise, whichever was happening at the moment. Anxiety would’ve eaten at Elías at any other point but he was exhausted, so the moment he closed his eyes, sleep took over.

* * *

“Hey,” Remus spoke up quietly as the door of Elías’ childhood home opened and Lourdes looked relieved to see him, quickly pulling him inside.

“Come in, come in! It’s raining still, are you wet?” she asked in that strange Spanish and British mix of accents. Remus loved it, honestly, and her kind face only made him appreciate her more, especially with the smell of something delicious in the kitchen.

“No, no, I’m dry, thank you, Lourdes,” he replied. “Elías is awake, as I said on the phone –”

“We’re going to eat dinner and go immediately,” she nodded firmly. “Have you eaten?”

“I – no but it’s –”

“I’ll pull out another seat, then,” she closed the thick front door and Remus heard Juan move around the kitchen. There were two doors at the entrance, one in front of him, leading to the living room and the other leading to the kitchen – Remus followed Lourdes into the kitchen, wanting to at the very least help. His head was pounding and maybe he needed a glass of water and some good food, yes, but he kept replaying over and over in his head what Elías had told him about Regulus. “How is he?” she asked, even though she’d already done that in the phone call.

“He’s going to be alright,” Remus assured her and Juan didn’t look up when Remus greeted him, simply nodding his head in Remus’ direction. The poor man hadn’t slept a wink since Elías had been accepted to the hospital in Cadiz and Remus understood, even though Lourdes made a disapproving noise. “He was speaking completely normal and when the mediwitch took his vitals, she informed me that he was alright – magically drained, but alright.”

Lourdes let out a loud breath of relief, her hand over her heart, clutching the little golden cross around her neck, very similar to the one Remus had tucked away in a little box full of his mother’s things.

“He’s always been and out of the hospital,” she told Remus, pulling out another plate and cutlery, the werewolf quickly rushing to help her set up his place on the table. “Broke so many bones as a kid! Broke his wrist three times – in a row! Because of rollerskating!”

“Sounds like Elías,” Remus laughed and he saw Juan’s lips twitch upwards a bit. “He doesn’t look clumsy but he sure can be.”

“ _Cabra loca_ , careless,” Juan remarked, shaking his head. “Like an elephant in a – a junkyard.”

“Right,” Remus chuckled, grinning to himself. “He’s had worse, I’m sure.”

“Yes, he… he’s had worse,” Lourdes whispered, nervously brushing wrinkles out of her blouse. “Once before.”

Remus’ smile dropped and he wished he could kick himself in the teeth – of course Elías had been in worse, he’d tried to –

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to –” he tried but Lourdes patted his chest, shaking her head. She was as touchy-feely as Elías, maybe even more, always pulling and pushing on his arm and it could be annoying at times but Remus found that he didn’t mind that much.

“No, no, _cielo_ , it’s okay,” she assured, taking a deep breath. “Would you like anything? A beer, some sangria, water?”

“Water would be great,” he murmured and she nodded, busying herself with getting him a glass as Juan finished dinner. It was a bunch of little empanadas, Remus realized as Juan stuck them into the oven, closing the door and drinking the rest of his own beer.

It was, as always, oppressively hot in San Fernando and when Remus moved aside to let Juan walk out of the kitchen, he saw Harry on the living room, knees to his chest, sitting on the carpeted floor and watching TV – some documentary on sea animals.

“Hey,” he greeted softly, walking to the living room and Harry glanced back and gave Remus a half-hearted smile. “How are you doing, Harry?”

“Lourdes told me that Elías is alright,” was what the kid led with. “Was she lying?”

“No, she wasn’t,” Remus assured, slowly sitting on the old couch and Harry let out a relieved breath, head dropping again to his knees. “Everything went well and he woke up around sundown.”

“Alright,” Harry croaked. “How – how is he?”

“A bit disoriented, a bit scared, it’s normal after a Sight,” Remus explained to him softly, hand moving to squeeze’s Harry’s small shoulder and he took a deep breath. “That sure scared you, didn’t it?”

“His eyes were white,” Harry whispered and Remus pursed his lips.

“I know. Not – they’re not normally like that, you know? His Sights,” he told the boy. “They’re much milder. This was an exception.”

“How long’s he been able to do this?” he turned fully to Remus, arms moving over the coffee table. “How – has – has he ever been hurt from it?”

“Just one or two more times,” Remus winced. “We’re trying to figure out why.”

“I could ask Hermione, she knows a lot,” Harry told Remus, eyes hopefully and Remus gave him a firm look.

“Be very careful, Harry, with this information,” he said, serious. “Being a Seer is registered in the Ministry of every European country. Elías is not in the Spanish registry and he doesn’t want to be. So don’t tell just anyone about this.”

“Right – right, I’ll uh… ask him before I tell Hermione. Or Ron. Or whomever,” Harry promised quietly, glancing at the kitchen as Juan entered again, speaking in rapid-fire Spanish with Lourdes.

“Do you like them?” Remus asked, trying to change the subject into something nicer and Harry’s lips curled a bit, smiling and nodding at him. “They’re nice people, aren’t they?”

“Real parents,” Harry whispered. “They uh… feed me and tuck me into bed like Elías. Juan teaches me a lot about boats, we’ve been going every day of this week to sail.”

“That’s nice,” Remus beamed at him. “You’re enjoying San Fernando, then?”

“Mhmm,” Harry nodded, looking tired before murmuring. “I wanna sail with Elías again.”

Remus felt a pang of pity and his hand moved from Harry’s shoulder to his hair, gently ruffling it the way Elías and Sirius did. “You’re really liking living with him, huh?”

“He’s kind,” Harry murmured, watching the kitchen, the way Lourdes leaned over to kiss Juan and pull him into a loving hug, the man melting into his wife, hugging her back. “His entire family is. His cousins all let me in the front seat and they speak English so I understand it all. They took me for ice cream and asked me about the things I liked. Elías does it too, I… I don’t want to go back.”

He looked upset and Remus sighed, pulling Harry closer, the kid slipping into the couch next to Remus, “He’s not going anywhere, Harry,” Remus assured him quietly. “He’s fine. And he’ll come back home.”

“Alright,” Harry rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “How’s Sirius?”

“Like a caged dog,” Remus tried to use humor, nudging him, and Harry gave a little laugh. “You’ll see him soon, alright? As soon as Elías is out, I’m sure he’ll come by to see Sirius.”

“Can I ask… uh… what did… Elías see?” Harry asked after a moment of silence and Remus’ lips turned down a bit, sighing. “No, right?”

“Nothing of the future,” Remus told him slowly. “But uh, something bad from the past. Someone who was dear to a lot of his friends who died at war.”

“Sounds horrible,” Harry whispered.

“When Elías comes back, he will need some help to go back to normal,” Remus began, arm moving around Harry’s shoulder, squeezing him close. “So let’s work together to make a nice meal and sit in the garden and listen to music, like we’ve been, alright?”

“I’d like that,” Harry confessed, nodding.

“It’s going to be alright, Harry,” Remus promised, and meant it, and perhaps Harry could see that because the tension on his shoulders left and pretty soon, the four of them were sitting on the kitchen table, Lourdes gently scolding Harry as he reached for the empanadas without waiting for the prayer.

Once the blessings were done, Harry dug in, careful with them since they were still hot, and Juan gave the kid a smile full of affection.

“Do you like them?” he asked, laughing as Harry nodded, mouth full.

“Don’t ask him questions when he’s eating, Juan!” Lourdes told him, sighing as she filled Remus’ glass with cool, icy water. “Remus, _cielo_ , do you want some salad?”

“I’d love some,” he nodded, taking the bowl and serving himself.

Dinner with Elías’ parents was as easy as dinner with Elías himself and Remus realized that the Fernández family was just like that – laidback, happy, jovial, _normal_. Elías had told Remus multiple times that his childhood trauma never came from lack of love, but rather lack of understanding, and he knew now that Elías must’ve been a happy child, sitting at this kitchen table, twenty years before. He tried to picture a small little boy with platinum blond hair and the bluest eyes and it was then when he noticed a stain on the wall, on the side where Harry was sitting, and Remus’ grin came out on its own. That had been Elías’ spot. He just knew.

Dinner finished quick. The moment Juan finished the last empanada, he stood and began to move to the bathroom to take a shower before they left. Harry poked at his salad, playing with one of the pomegranate seeds one the side and Lourdes brushed back his hair, humming.

“It’s getting a bit long, isn’t it?” she remarked.

“I like it like this,” Harry replied and Lourdes opened her mouth before closing it, instead giving him a hesitant smile.

“You’ll look handsome either with short or long, so choose whatever you want to,” she said, brushing it away from his eyes. “Just keep it back, yes? You can barely see where you’re going!”

“I can see perfectly, Lourdes,” Harry laughed, batting her hand away and Lourdes poked his nose, making him laugh again. “No! Stop!”

She chuckled, letting him be, and Remus felt warmth settle in his stomach – Harry deserved grandparents. Harry deserved a big family that let him be in the front seat of the car and got him ice cream and poked his nose and nagged him about the length of his hair. He smiled softly, and after a bit more of conversation, Juan came back showered and ready, telling them all to go.

Remus felt a bit weird, going on a visibly bigger and more modern car than the one Elías had but he eventually relaxed, watching the San Fernando scenery pass by. He felt like today he’d finally be able to get some sleep, after such a dreadful week – Sirius had been worried, too, and even though Remus had popped in for a moment into Grimmuald Place to let him know Elías’ status, he still wanted to reassure him further.

Fuck, how was Remus going to tell him about Regulus?

Santa Maria del Olivar was quiet when they arrived, a few horses pulling carriages in and out of the emergency room. It was then, as Remus exited the car, that Harry paused and squinted at someone.

“What’s wrong?” Remus asked and Harry pointed at a tired-looking man with a bird on his shoulder, chainsmoking against a muggle car. “Who’s that?”

“The Headmaster of Altavista,” Harry replied and Remus blinked, confused. “Elías and I met him when we were driving here, moving here.”

Remus watched the man, blond hair waving in the wind under long brimmed hat. Elías had one of those, they were – in fashion? For wizards in Spain?

“I’ll come with you later, go ahead,” he told Harry and the Fernández, who both nodded while Harry frowned at him, but they ended up walking into the hospital. Remus buried his hands in the pockets of his pants and walked over to the Headmaster – without a plan, none at all, but – well, could it be a coincidence?

“Hello, Director Cevedo,” Remus greeted politely and the man glanced over at him, surprised, the hawk shifting over his shoulder before digging his beak against the mass of sun-bleached hair. “I believe we haven’t been formerly introduced, although I’ve seen you in the last meeting for the TriWizard Tournament.”

“Remus Lupin,” the man replied, pronouncing Remus’ name the same way as Elías, holding out a hand which Remus shook. His fingers were rough and his grip firm. “I saw a bunch of British uppity wizards inside. Should’ve known something was up – it’s the other professor, isn’t it? Ha, the _gaditano_.”

“Elías, yes,” Remus nodded, arms crossing, getting comfortable. “Harry told me that you two met, so I thought –”

“Nah, I’m here for my _abu_ ,” he explained, throwing his burnt out cigarette to the ground and grinding his heel over it, lighting another with his wand. “Had a stroke.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Remus said politely and the man tipped his hat in acknowledgement. “I thought Altavista was further north?”

“Other side of Spain, yep,” Cevedo leaned his head back and swirls of smoke escaped his mouth. “But I grew up here. Well, in San Fernando.”

“What a coincidence,” Remus began to feel something – a gut feeling, a warning in his stomach. “I thought San Fernando didn’t have much of a magic community.”

“ _Mi abu_ is muggle,” he explained. “I’m a half-blood – well, _muggle_ , technically. Mother’s a squib. What are you doing here?”

Remus blinked, surprised, “I’m seeing –”

“Yeah, Fernández, I know, you came in with the kid he adopted and two people who look a lot like him,” the man smirked a bit, eyes running over Remus. “Didn’t know the Brits were so lax about that.”

Remus felt himself bristle at that, wanting to immediately snap and he realized that what Cevedo was doing was _exactly_ what Elena did. He remembered what Elías had told him, how he’d told Remus that if he’d gone to Altavista, he would’ve been eaten alive and he suddenly understood.

“Are the Spaniards not?” he challenged back.

“Now I know why he denied my invitation to Altavista,” Cevedo snorted, hand petting his hawk, scritching him under its beak. “Pity. I heard about his sister, though he’d make a pretty good _jinete_.”

“You talk of him as if you knew him at all,” Remus replied, this man getting on his nerves.

“I know his potential,” he shrugged and Remus wanted to maul him. Remus knew that too many people spoke of _Elías’ potential_ without considering what he wanted. Whatever a _jinete_ was, he was glad Elías hadn’t been pressured into it. “Just tell him –”

“He’s recovering, I think he doesn’t need to consider anything,” Remus cut in, firm, Cevedo’s cigarette rolling from one side of his mouth to the other. Then he shrugged again, smirking, insufferable. “I hope the best for your grandmother.”

“ _Gracias_ , and I hope Fernández recovers well,” the Headmaster replied, saluting him with two fingers as Remus walked away.

As the Gryffindor walked into the hospital, moving towards Elías room, he couldn’t help but wonder if Elías hadn’t told him about Cevedo – he _would_ have, right? Why hadn’t he told Remus – did they know each other from before or just – Remus felt like they knew each other, right? That had to be it? Otherwise Cevedo wouldn’t be as familiar with Elías as he was.

He was turning the corner when he saw a familiar figure walking from Elías’ room, stark white background around Severus’ bat-like clothes. Severus also saw him and immediately walked to Remus, lips pursed, obviously agitated and when he reached the werewolf, he scowled.

“Elías’ _family_ is in there,” he said, mouth downturned. “They called me _Severus_.”

Remus snorted, trying not to laugh, relaxing when Severus finally stood beside him. It wasn’t that he was scared of Cevedo, but being close to the best duelist he’d ever met sure helped him calm down.

“Yes, we just arrived,” Remus chuckled.

“His sister didn’t arrive just now, they’ve been _bloody_ talking for hours,” Severus looked not just annoyed but also worried and Remus nudged him a bit.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

“ _No_ ,” Severus said bluntly. “I _still_ don’t know what he saw. And why he reacted the way he did, why he _cracked_ his head open, why –”

“I know,” Remus cut in, still so soft, and Severus’ eyes met his for a moment, slowly taking in Remus’ expression. “I… I know what he saw.”

Severus watched him silently, exploring Remus’ eyes, lips, posture, before closing his eyes and letting out a sharp, quiet breath, looking already deeply hurt.

“It’s about Regulus, isn’t it?” he whispered and Remus wanted to reach over and grab his arm, reassure him, comfort him somehow but the hospital smelled sterile and there was no privacy and he didn’t even know if Severus would find his touch a comfort.

“Yes,” he ended up saying.

“Spit it out, then,” Severus growled and Remus rubbed his nose, shuffling his feet. “ _Lupin_ –”

“Regulus didn’t disappear,” the werewolf cut in, Severus watching him with the strongest attempt to remain impassive, even though his eyes were stormy with conflicting emotions. “He killed himself by drowning in a creature-infested body of water.”

Severus did not react at first except for the tightening of his jaw. Remus saw it, though, saw the way his knuckles became white, arms not moving from their crossed position and, to his surprise, saw as well the way Severus’ eyes shone – brighter and brighter until tears spilled down his cheeks.

There was anger and sadness and _rage_ and betrayal and so many other emotions coming from Severus but in the end, as Remus opened his mouth, Severus turned on his heels and moved down the hallway, towards the exit, slamming open the double doors on his way out. Remus could only watch, heart breaking, wondering when the spoils of war would wash down the drain once and for all.


End file.
